#and only went along with it because 1. her own alignment is still slowly becoming unfucked cos. female drow raised in the underdark
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you know what i would love to be an option in bg3? making your own party member. like Icewind Dale style. choose their class, voice, appearance and travel with them. obvs i understand why they didnt, but it wouldve been so fun to have the option to make your own member, esp if they could be incorporated into your backstory. a sibling, parent, spouse, adventuring buddy, best friend.
#this being spurred on by my want of my pc sabine being joined by my drow pc schezelle#have been working on them more (made sabine a lathander paladin as that made more sense and schezelle a seluné worshipping sorcerer)#they both knew each other through mutual friends becore being kidnapped in baldurs gate. while sabine was an experienced adventurer#schezelle only recently escaped the underdark after betraying her family after being rescued by members of sabines adventuring party#so all this kind of danger is very new and scary for her. i have her at about 70#(young adult in elf years) and sabine a half elf at 45.#whereas sabine follows the canonical romance line with shadowheart#schezelle falls for astarion and supports him unequivocally but gets trapped into a relationship with him when she helps him ascend and#his alignment/the relationship as a whole changes. after the tadpole is removed the rest of the party help her get away from him and#in the meantime she looks for a way to use either true restoration/resurrection/some other cure for his vampirism#because she realizes she made a HUGE mistake just going along with everything he wanted to do#and only went along with it because 1. her own alignment is still slowly becoming unfucked cos. female drow raised in the underdark#2. shes just used to doing what people who like her say because its easier that way and doesnt make conflict#i dont think she gets back together with astarion after she finds a cure for him but they stay close. she returns to waterdeep with sabine#and shadowheart to live in the formers tavern with her adventuring party#maybe falls in love with gale while researching cures for astarion#idk yet still thinking things through and going through the game#anyway yeah. wish i couldve made a friend for sabine. think she gets lonely and misses home a lot during the adventure.
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Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 1
Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.
Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You
Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY - I’ve also put a smut alert ahead in bold if you want to skip straight to the good bits ;)
Word Count: 7,381
Warnings: Sexual intercourse, foreplay, mentions of domestic abuse, trauma, drug/alcohol abuse.
A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I always read stories about Maxwell being a domineering guy and never stories about how he can be romantic and soft. When I watched WW84 especially at the end I saw how emotional and vulnerable he was with Alistair and wanted to write a story that portrayed him as a big cuddly teddy bear under all that masculine exterior. Enjoy!
You’ve worked for black and gold corporation for the better part of 7 years. You were hired as an intern assistant at just 21, soon after the company jettisoned from its humble beginnings inside a matchbox office suite on the corner of a strip mall, to a stock market listed company leasing the top floor in the tallest high rise office building in Los Angeles. Soon after moving in, the top floor office was packed with young, vibrant men and women who helped profits soar. But even at its busiest, Maxwell always made time for his staff. No matter what he was going through, he would give his staff his undivided attention and empathy. If they were having personal or professional problems, he would do everything he could to help. It aligned with his company motto, “life is good, but it can be better”.
He believed it was important to be as personable and helpful to others as possible, he felt that it was imperative to his own success. Only you knew this really stemmed from his less than favourable upbringing, being abused by his father, bullied by his peers and having to work hard for his achievements. He could be having the worst day, but he would never make it known to his team, all except you of course, being his personal assistant. As you spent a large amount of time together, Maxwell confided in and involved you in many personal areas of his life. 6 months after you started working for Max, he invited you and your then boyfriend to his wedding, stealing a waltz from you at the Reception. A year later, when his son, Alistair was born, he would show you picture after picture of baby photos, gushing about how proud he was to be a father. 3 years later when the company had its first day on the US stock exchange, you and Max stayed up all night at the office running through press releases, interviews and planning the next 6 months of his now very hectic schedule. When Alistair would come to the office to visit, you would babysit and play with him, change him, feed him, read him stories and sing him to sleep.
As he started to grow up, you soon rivaled Max in Alistair’s favourite person to spend time with at the office. Two years ago when you ended up in a very bad car accident and broke your arm, Max showed up personally to the hospital looking frantically worried about you. He even brought along Alistair who was helping carry a giant bouquet of flowers, a teddy bear and balloons. He stayed overnight after your surgery, sleeping in the most awkward positions on the single armchair next to your hospital bed. While you were in surgery, he made sure your work health insurance covered every cent and even provided company paid physiotherapy so you could get better properly. You knew you were in love with him since that dance at his wedding, but you had too much respect and adoration for him to be a homewrecker. Plus, you just assumed as he was so involved with all of his staff, that it didn’t mean he would be into you romantically.
As you were required to attend many of the shareholder and CCO/CEO/CFO meetings to take minutes, you became intrigued with the world of business and economics. So you enrolled in a Bachelor’s degree part time through a local University. At the time, women in business was largely unheard of, and to avoid sexist comments and discrimination, you told no one. When the Global Financial Crisis hit, it slammed into Maxwell’s dreams like a meteoroid. Overtime was required at the office and you spent most of your time in Max’s office doing paperwork for staff that had been laid off due to the budget cuts. Each day he would be on the phone, yelling at other business men on the other side of the world. You watched his positive energetic demeanor slowly chip away, as his drinks cart full of spirits and liqueurs dwindled alongside. Not long after, Black and Gold’s Chief Financial Officer and advisors within the company were arrested for Insider Trading and other shady business dealings.
Throughout all of this, you had given Max as much support, personally and professionally as you could, while still being respectful and platonic as he was a married man. With most of the staff gone and the company’s finances in disarray from the GFC and mismanagement, the universe dealt Max the final blow, his divorce. His wife, who was clearly only interested in him for his money and how it could provide her a cushy lifestyle, filed for divorce as the company was failing. She tried to take him to the cleaners financially, but Max was smart enough to have a prenuptial agreement and keep what was left of his dwindling fortune. So she used their son, Alistair, as a pawn in her game. The courts granted Max shared custody, but only one visit per fortnight. This devastated him as his son was his whole world.
He didn’t want to become destitute by giving up his fortune to his wife, but he didn’t want to lose his son, either. It started to tear him apart, leading to drunken nights in his office, alone. Except, he wasn’t totally alone. Every night, after everyone had gone home, you would stay back late each night to check on him and make sure he hadn’t done anything stupid. You would sit in one of the barren office cubicles with a vantage point to his office, but invisible to see from his desk. With tears sitting at the edges of your eyes, you silently watch him drink enough alcohol to chill out a bull, take some pills, flip through photo books of Alistair and start to sob. This went on for months. Overdue bills and foreclosure notices started to pile up on his desk. Egregiously inflated child support payment requests from his ex-wife littered the coffee table in his office.
Today was an exceptionally hard day, Max had received a resignation letter from his second last employee, leaving just you and him in the office. He slept on the futon in his office the night before, waking up looking disheveled, his tie pulled loose, shirt half tucked, suit jacket on the floor and his shoes god knows where. He looked awful.
Night falls, shrouding the office in darkness. Apart from a few desk lights, the floor is cold & dark. As you start packing boxes with office paperwork and belongings, you glance over to see the outline of Max at his desk, with his back turned, silently smoking a cigarette and drinking a glass of whiskey on ice. He reaches back for a brief moment, to press the answering machine, illuminated by his desk lamp. *beep* Message received, Wednesday, 4:33 pm “Hello Maxwell this is Brittany from AMP investments, your lease agreement with us has been defaulted for 6 months now with $150,000 in rent arrears. If it is not paid by the 30th of this month, building management will deactivate access to the floor and repossess any remaining belongings on the property. *beep* End Message. Message received Thursday, 5:43 pm “Max it’s Barb, I’m cancelling Alistair’s visit this weekend, seeing as you don’t want to pay me any extra child support.” *beep* End Message. Message received today, 7:02 pm “Hey Daddy, it’s Alistair, Mommy said I can’t come over because you’re working too much to see me. I wish you weren’t working all the time so we could play together and go to the movies and-“ you hear Barb, Max’s ex wife cut him off with “Alistair? What are you doing on the phone?! Who are you talking to?” Alistair whines, “I wanted to talk to Daddy” suddenly the sound of the receiver slams into the phone. *beep* End Message. You have no new messages.
The office is dead silent, but you can audibly hear the sound of Max’s heart shattering into a thousand pieces. He begins to cry, slowly shrinking in his chair, slumping down with his forearms on his knees and his head bowed. The cries slowly become more intense, with Max gasping for air between the long loud shrieks as his whole body shakes. “Alistair! My Alistair! My boy! I’ve failed you! Your Daddy failed you!” He wails, tears freely flooding down his face and snot dripping out of his nose, both like endless waterfalls. He drops to his knees and collapses onto the carpet, like he’s been shot right through the chest. He continues to sob & wail, forgetting that he isn’t alone in the office. You walk to the doorway of his office, frozen with indecision. Your heart was pounding and eyes on the verge of tears from what you just heard. On one hand you feel like you’re intruding on something extremely personal and maybe somewhat embarrassing for Maxwell, but you’ve never seen him like this and he looked like he was physically dying.
“Mr Lord, is everything okay?” Your soft voice quietly called out from the doorway of his office. Your medicated voice jolts Max out of his catatonic state and into a sitting upright position, as he quickly wipes his face and fixes his hair. “Oh, Ug-I’m so sorry for you to see me like this, it’s quite unbecoming of me” Maxwell apologises, trying to play it off with a light hearted chuckle between quiet heaved sobs. You catch a frozen stare, peering straight into his soul past the bloodshot, weepy but warm, brown irises.
Your heart is thumping hard, as if to try and break out of your ribcage and fly over to him. Max had been there for all of his staff, especially you. You couldn’t walk away after everyone else in his life had abandoned or given up on him. “You don’t need to apologise, Mr Lord.” You slowly reply, stepping over the booze bottles littering his office floor as you walk over to him. He’s frantically adjusting his outfit and hair, to look as put together as possible before you sit down beside him on the floor. You both sit there in silence, with the odd sniffle coming from Max’s nose. You finally pucker up the courage and say “I didn’t want to intrude but I heard the voice messages, I’m so sorry all of this has happened to you, Max”.
He had never heard you say his name before, it was always “Mr Lord”. It felt like honey soothing his dry strained throat as it rolled off your tongue. You continued, “You’ve always been there for me”, you paused to redirect attention, “for all of us. What can I do to help?”. You reach out and place your hand on his. Your warm, soft touch sends a shock wave of emotion through his body. No one has cared about him like this before, let alone touched him in such a gentle way. Max stares at your now teary eyes, realising he can be vulnerable and trust his longest and closest friend.
He collapses by your side, crying into your shoulder “I’m a failure” he sobs “My business, my marriage and most importantly I’ve failed my son. I just hope one day that he can forgive me and love me and be proud of me. He is my whole life, I just want him back”. You start to choke up but you have to remain composed. You look up and away, silently biting your knuckle and blinking tears back into your eyes before responding. “Max, you are not a failure, you are an exceptional human being. You built this company from nothing and you changed peoples lives. And don’t even get me started with Alistair, you’re the best father a kid could ask for, it’s not your fault your ex wife is being abusive”. He continues to sob, so you wrap your arm around his side and let him cry for a few minutes. The smell of his chemically lightened & straightened dark blonde hair filled your nostrils as his forehead pressed against your chin.
His large fingers and palms grip your free hand. They’re surprisingly soft & very warm. You freeze as his touch sends zaps of electricity up your arm and down your body. As Maxwell leans against you, your perfume overloads his senses, bringing him back to a conscious state. What was he doing? He thought to himself. I’m a failure, and everything I get close to fails or leaves. He looks down at your hands. I can’t hurt such an amazing person. I have to rip off the metaphorical bandaid and be cruel to be kind. “Thank you” he sighs, catching his breath after minutes of sobbing “You can go home now. In fact, I want you to take a redundancy payout so you can find another job. There’s nothing left for you here. I’m a failure and I don’t want you drowning with the ship” he says, in a clinically professional voice. Max hands you a company envelope with your name on it. He sits up to take a sip on the remaining whiskey left in his glass.
Your ears begin to burn and your cheeks redden with anger. Tears prick at the edges of your eyes, begging for them to flow. “Alfred will take you home in the company car, or wherever you want to go”. He continues, now smoking a cigarette.
“But what If I don’t want to go?” You whisper, trying to hide the sobs that are trying to break through your voice. “Please, I just want you to be happy” Max replies. You take great offence at his ignorant statements, as if he knows what makes you truly happy. “How do you know what makes me happy, Max?” You huff, standing up abruptly and folding your arms. “Well, I don’t know, but I can’t exactly see how you would be happy staying here while my company fails” he answers, shrugging. You feel your heart begin to break, realising that even being single and having such a close professional relationship with you, Max seemed to hold no deeper feelings for you and was almost starting to turn on you. You stand there wanting to run for the door but trying to think logically. Men are dim, maybe he doesn’t realise your true feelings? Maybe he’s preoccupied with his own and too overwhelmed to face them?
Max’s embarrassment from being caught in such a vulnerable state compounded with offending you takes its toll and he starts to get frustrated and impatient. “I think I just want to be alone now”. He sighs, looking away. The words cut deep, slicing you apart like ribbons. You begin to feel yourself fall apart, your emotions and thoughts spilling out with force. “I can’t leave” you sob, hanging your head in shame. Hearing you start to cry, he starts to hate himself more as he's clearly made you upset. With emotions bubbling over, he stands up, looking at you with tears in his eyes. “Why? Why can’t you leave!?” He shouts, a pained look of frustration and confusion on his face as he puts his hands on your arms, gently shaking you to get you to speak.
The last of the ribbons tying up your words from coming out fall down around you. You look deep into his crazed brown eyes, longing for an answer. “Because I love you!” You blurt out, sobbing. The tension in the room is now thick enough to cut with a knife. “I’ve loved you since the night we danced at your wedding. I fell in love with one of the most empathic, intelligent, hard working and compassionate men I know. You changed my life and every day I wish I could’ve shown you the love & kindness you deserve. That you need”. You step back from his grip, straightening your pantsuit as you compose yourself. “But I guess if I’m not needed anymore, I’ll leave you alone, Mr Lord”. The duality of your emotive declaration of love against the rigid clinical final words lurched his heart forward like a freight train and then slammed against his rib cage with the force of 100Gs.
You start to stride towards the door, but Maxwell follows behind you quickly, grabbing your hand, where you turn around on your heels. He grabs both of your hands and brings them up between you, squeezing them gently. “Pl-please don’t, don’t leave me” he begs, “you-you’re all I have left”. His dark brown eyes shimmer with tears as he shoots you a pleading gaze. He drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around your legs and squeezing tight like he's hanging on for dear life. You stand frozen on the spot, feeling Max’s warm breath on your legs as he heaves a few more cries. As you start to run your hands through his dark blonde locks, the sensation calms your mind and you reach your hands down to cup Max’s face, tilting it up to look at you. “I won't, Max” you say with a concerned gaze. “As long as you don’t push me away”. Max nods silently as he reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his pocket square. He stands up and starts to gently wipe your tears away. “I’m so sorry” he apologises “I lashed out because I felt like a failure and I didnt want to let you down anymore and disappoint you.” he continues while making sure he’s wiped all of the tears from your cheeks and cleaned up some of your smudged makeup. “You’re not a failure, Max” you reply, “You’re an incredible man and you should be proud of everything you have achieved”.
Max gives you a small smile, blushing slightly as he gently embraces you with his big arms, pulling you close against his chest. His strong cologne masked the slight tinge of body odour from not showering mixed into a masculine and attractive scent. You quietly inhale as much as your lungs will allow, savouring every smell. As he starts to brush through your curls with his large fingers, he plants a small kiss on your head, making you feel like you could melt out of his arms and into a puddle on the floor. “I’m sorry, too.” you whisper. “Sorry for what?” he quizzes, looking down at you, puzzled. “For telling you that I love you. It’s true, but I feel like it was not the most appropriate time to tell you with everything that’s going on with Alistar, the company, your-” Max interrupts your sentence “Come with me”. Max strides you across his office floor with his arm around your waist. You both walk over to an unassuming door, which you always thought led to a supply closet. Upon its opening, you step into the room to reveal a whole bedroom, complete with a dining table, sofa, TV and ensuite. You had been Max’s personal assistant for 7 years and had no idea such a room even existed. “Wow” you manage to blurt out in complete shock. “I had this room made so that when I was working long hours my ex-wife and Alistair could stay here” Max explained, adjusting bits and bobs around the room “Although my ex-wife never stayed. She always accused me of sleeping with other women in this bed when in fact I was actually working. I kind of live here now, having sold my estate to pay to keep the company running”
He gestures to you to sit on the timber art deco dining chair, as he picks up the phone on the coffee table. “Alfred. Can you please take a drive and bring back any decent takeout food you find. Make sure to get some for yourself, too”. Max hangs up the phone before turning on the radio and then grabs two wine glasses from the small bar by the lounge and a bottle of red wine. He places both glasses on the table and fills both half way. You pick up your glass and walk over to the floor to ceiling window, overlooking downtown LA. As Max is fussing over tidying and making the room perfect, he glances over to see you standing alone, looking out the window. Lost in your own little world, you feel Max’s large soft hand intertwine with your free hand. “I started black and gold in a shoebox office inside a strip mall, over there, in South LA” he points just in front of the hills. He pauses. “I expect that after I get evicted I won’t even be able to lease that same office”. You give his hand a small squeeze. “Maybe I could help you”. Max looks at you dubiously. “How do you mean?” He inquired.
Just as you were planning to answer, Alfred arrives with some food. Max walks over to your dining chair and pulls it out, gesturing for you to sit. You take your seat and he flaps a linen napkin into your lap, before sitting down adjacent to you. Alfred had bought some delicious Mexican food, the intoxicating smell of meats, cheeses and spices filling the room. “Thank you, Alfred. I’ll call you again if we need anything” Max smiles, patting Alfred on the back as he leaves. You both sit at the table for hours, eating, drinking and talking about the company. Max finally learns the secret that you’ve been hiding about studying at University. “I haven’t officially graduated yet, but learning what I have, I could probably help Black and Gold get out of its current predicament. I also might know some investors that I befriended in the same units as me from the University”. Max shoots you a soft smile. “You really are the best assistant and friend anyone could ask for” he beams, placing his hand on yours. Embarrassed by his compliment and burning with desire to want to kiss him, you stand up and head over to the couch to distract yourself from your intense feelings. Max realises the use of the word friend was probably a poor choice. He must be honest with you and tell you how he feels. Max joins you on the couch where your arms are crossed and you’re staring ahead. You’re trying to avoid eye contact else you’ll burst into flames.
********SMUT ALERT********
“I hope you don’t think I’m rude or ignoring the impassioned declaration you made earlier” Max smiles “I just wanted to give you a semi-decent first date”. You feel your cheeks begin to blush and you unfold your arms. “The truth is” Max continues, resting his hand on yours. “I feel the same way about you. Even before my ex-wife divorced me, I started to fall in love with you. The way you are with Alistair, how committed you are to helping me. I just didn’t think you’d wanna be with an older man like me and even more so when everything started to go downhill”.
You place your hand on top of Max’s, both now staring at each other softly yet intensely. “Max” you turn to face him, edging closer. Max nervously places his hands on your cheeks. “I’ve waited for 7 years, please kiss me”.
Max finally kisses your lips, setting your whole body alight. Dizzy from the sensation, you lay back on the couch as Max follows down on top of you. He begins peppering slow, thoughtfully placed kisses down your jaw and neck. You let out a whimper as your hands twirl through his hair. Every movement he makes is slow, as if he is trying to slow down time and make this moment last forever. Max comes back up and passionately kisses your mouth, your tongue begging his for entrance. As your tongues intertwine, he holds your head and neck with one hand, while stroking your hair with the other. Max holds you gently yet strongly in his arms, like he’s holding onto a fragile Fabergé egg. With the position you’re in on the couch and the impracticality of your work attire in non-work sitting positions, he senses that you’re uncomfortable.
“May I?” He asks, holding the zipper to your dress as he places his arms behind your back. You nod and he slowly unzips it, gently slipping it off you and carefully folding it over the armrest of the lounge. Overcome with passion and desire from Max’s romantic gestures, you blurt out “I want you to take me, Max”. Without a word, he scoops you up in his arms and walks you over to the bed, placing you down gently in the middle. Max sits at the foot of the bed, marvelling at your stunning body. You’re wearing stockings and a purple lingerie set, coincidentally Max’s favourite colour.
Max leans down and kisses the top of your foot, peppering kisses up your legs before reaching the clips of your garter belt. He unclasps them before rolling down the stockings, kissing back down your legs. Burning with desire, you unclasp your bra and garter belt, throwing them to the side of the bed. Max looks up from kissing your legs to see your breasts exposed in the moonlight, your nipples hard from his gaze.
“Y-you look absolutely beautiful” he chokes before climbing up on top of you to reach your face. You blush, feeling Max’s extremely hard cock straining in his suit trousers against your thigh. “Kiss me, Max” you moan, brushing your lips against his and moving your hand down towards his crotch. Max slowly and passionately begins to kiss you, your tongues swirling in each other’s mouths, the taste of wine and chilli making for a sensual combination. As your hand reaches Max’s crotch, you begin to grope and rub his sizeable length, causing him to let out a loud moan. You shoot him a cheeky sexual gaze, but he grabs your hand and brings it up for you to cup the side of his face. “Not just yet my little dove” he whispers. You pout but decide to put your hands to better use and unbutton his shirt, revealing his strong chiseled chest. Max starts to breathe deeper from arousal as you unbuckle his belt and throw it to the floor. “I want to take my time with you” Max whispers “You’ve waited so long and I want this moment to be everything you deserve. I want to worship and pleasure you completely”.
Your pussy is now completely soaked, the faint squelches from your juices against your panties sounds in the background of Max kissing your neck. Maxwell is more preoccupied with taking his time in a combination of making up for lost time with you, giving you the best first time with him and making this moment last as long as possible. “Guide me” Max sighs between kisses, giving you his free hand. Holding it with both hands, you guide him down your neck and to your breasts. Max traces your breasts, flicking your nipples as he watches you whine with pleasure. Slowly he leans down and begins to suck on them, gently swirling his tongue and flicking. He kisses from one breast to the other, squeezing them in his hand. “Your body is perfect. Your skin is so soft.” he moans. By this time you’re rubbing your thighs together in an effort to stimulate your clit without your hands as they’re gripping Max’s dark blonde hair.
“Max, take off your pants” you pant, becoming overstimulated from all this teasing foreplay. He stands up off the bed and unzips his trousers, pulling them down to reveal his rock hard cock. “Oh Max” you moan, reaching down under your panties to touch yourself as his cock twitches. Max hurriedly crawls onto the bed and back up to your face, pulling your hand out of your panties. He brings your fingers close to his mouth and rubs them on his lips before bringing his tongue out to swirl around them, sucking your juices off them. “Touch me Max” you immediately whimper “I need your touch”. Max moans before kissing you passionately. As you both enjoy your tender kiss, Max traces his hand down your body, over your breasts, along your stomach and reaches the edge of your panties. Max reaches into your panties and gently places a finger at the top of your pussy, gently but firmly pressing down as he traces over your clit and down to your opening. Your wetness has coated every inch of your pussy. “You’re so wet” he pants, the sensation starts to send some beads of precum out the tip of his cock. “For you” you moan, writhing in pleasure at his calculated & lingering touch.
Looking deep into your eyes, Max rubs your folds slowly before he inserts two fingers gently but deep inside you. He begins to switch between a circling and a come hither motion on your g-spot, sending sparks shooting up through your body. You arch your back and let out a moan, while Max kisses your neck. “Oh Max baby that feels so good” you moan, gripping the sheets. “You feel amazing” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face so he can study your facial expressions as he pleasures you. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any more amazing, Max places his thumb onto your clitoris, bringing you closer to climax in a matter of milliseconds. “Oh my god Max, Max I’m gonna cum” you moan into his neck, biting him. Max continues fingering you, intently watching your face waiting for you to reach orgasm.
Between Max’s fingering, his kisses and eye contact it doesn’t take long for it all to send you over the edge, riding into a full body orgasm, squirting all over Max’s hand. “You’re so beautiful baby” Max coos, holding your body close with his fingers still inside you as your back arches and your body trembles while you let out a long loud moan. Despite this exquisite display and sensation happening between your legs, Max keeps eye contact with you, peering deep into your soul, completely enamoured. As you start to come down from your orgasm, Max slowly removes his fingers and sucks them clean. “You taste incredible, so sweet baby” he moans, licking the squirt off his hand. As you begin to catch your breath, Max kisses down your body and reaches your pussy, where he begins to lap up the rest of your juices. Very gently, Max parts the puffy pussy lips covering your clit. He starts to lick in between the folds, avoiding your clit as it recovers from the intense orgasm. He travels down to your entrance where he sticks his tongue inside, tasting your juices inside you.
The hum from his moan as he eats you out relaxes you like a lullaby. Max then comes back up to your face, kissing your forehead. “That was incredible Max” you pant, staring up at the ceiling. He rests his lips against your neck, cupping your breast and gently squeezing it and thumbing your nipple. “Let me pleasure you Max, please” you beg, giving him a pleading gaze. Max obliges as you change positions with him now lying on his back. You cup his face with one hand, giving him a loving smile as his hand grabs yours. He starts to kiss you as your hands both guide down his chest, stomach and reach his groin. You begin to tease him, tracing your fingertips around the base of his cock, then up the shaft. Your light touches cause his cock to twitch. “Your touch is magical'' Max groans as your hand grips his shaft and travels up to his tip. His precum has soaked the head, giving you enough lubricant to slowly jerk your hand up and down, gripping tightly.
The sensation for Max is heavenly, panting and moaning between kissing your cheeks and forehead as you concentrate your gaze on his pulsing cock. Your jerking movements become more intense as you look up to see Max with his eyes closed, like he’s dreaming and if he opens them you’ll cease to exist. You continue to jerk him as you kiss his neck, feeling his cock harden even more and begin to pulse rapidly, like he’s getting close. “W-wait” Max whimpers. “I want this night to be about pleasuring you. Your mere presence pleasures me enough.” He kisses your hand & cups your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes. “What can I do to please you? Would you like t-to make love?”. Your heart bursts with emotion as this man is so set on pleasuring you so much. “Yes Max, I would love that very much” you sigh.
You lay back down on the bed, Max lying by your side. He begins to embrace you, running his hands over your body before kissing down your neck and chest as he rubs your clit. Max stops for a moment, studying your beautiful naked body. He then moves down and pushes your legs up, exposing your pussy. As you squeeze your breasts and look at his chiseled jaw, Max nervously lines up his cock before rubbing it on your clit, soaking the tip in your wetness. Impatient with how he’s teasing you, you whisper “Fuck me Maxwell”. Slowly, he pushes his cock down your clitoris and through your folds before the tip pushes inside. Without even being all the way inside, he moans “this must be what Heaven feels like”. With one gentle thrust, he’s completely inside, shuddering as your warm, tight, wet walls squeeze his cock shaft and tip. “Oh my god Max. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment” you moan, as he starts to slowly thrust. “M-me too beautiful” he grunts, feeling pure ecstasy wash over him as your pussy tenses, massaging his twitching length. A few minutes go by of you both silently staring intensely into each other’s eyes, kissing passionately. With every thrust you begin to connect deeper to Max, your bodies intertwining on a physical, emotion and spiritual level. Max’s cock twitches inside you as he watches you moan and bite your lip, squeezing your breasts.
“I can’t believe you love a man, a man like me” Max says still in disbelief, watching your body motion up and down as he slowly strokes in and out of you. He studies your body intensely, watching the moonlight and shadows play across your curves as your breasts bounce with every thrust. “You’re so beautiful Hermosa”, his mother tongue now coming through “como una diosa, like, A-Aphrodité.” he sighs, cupping your face with both hands. You cover his hands with yours, interlocking your fingers, turning your face each way slightly to kiss his palms and stare back at him lovingly and seductively, feeling like you could float away. “Your Aphrodite” you sigh, arching back slightly in pleasure, gripping his hands to guide them down to your breasts for him to lovingly caress and fondle. In slight shock at your romantic response, he immediately leans down whilst thrusting and peppers kisses all over your lips, letting out a sniffle.
With his eyes closed, focusing on lasting to bring you pleasure and to hide his emotions, a few tears drop onto your cheeks as he continues to thrust, now grunting each time into your neck to cover up the small sobs. You kiss his cheek, to take his tears away, the saltiness turning into sweet nectar on your tongue. “It’s okay baby, you can be vulnerable with me, I will protect you. I love you”. You choke, now crying also. Both sharing a connection transcending physically, in that exact moment, without an increase in volume, the lyrics of the Bob Dylan song playing on the radio seem to stand out and ring true in this very moment;
Storm clouds are raging all around my door, I think to myself I might not take it any more. Take a woman like your kind, To find the man in me. But, oh, what a wonderful feeling, Just to know that you are near. Sets my a heart a-reeling, From my toes up to my ears...
Your foreheads now together, staring deeply into each other’s eyes, Max whimpers “I love you so much” as his whole body begins to tense, signalling he’s on the precipice of an orgasm. Feeling his cock become even harder as it thrusts into the deepest part of your pussy, slamming the extra nerves to unlock your powerful orgasm. “Oh my god Max I’m gonna cum” you moan, slamming your eyes shut as you begin to try and slow down so this moment can last forever. “Cum mi reina” Max pants, keeping the tempo of his thrusting steady as the waves of your orgasm reach its peak before crashing down & flooding your entire body. Your body arches and trembles as you scream “Oh Max!” while your pussy clamping down & releasing in pulses on Max’s cock. The sight of you orgasming tied with the sensation around his cock sends Max over the edge. “Cielo” Max groans, shuddering all over as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum against your sensitive cervix. You both share a passionate kiss as Max’s cock softens inside you. “That was amazing Max” you pant, your body weak from the two mind blowing orgasms Max gave you.
Max collapses on the bed beside you, kissing your neck and running his fingers through your hair. “I can’t wait for us to do that again” Max chuckles against your neck. You kiss Max’s forehead, sighing as your body still slightly shakes from the two powerful orgasms Max just gave you. “I think a shower is in order” He embraces you momentarily before scooping you up in his arms and carries you off the bed, walking towards the ensuite. “Are you ever gonna let me walk again?” You giggle, nestling into his neck. “I like feeling you be as close to me as possible” Max laughs, before your feet land back on the tiles inside the bathroom. Max turns on the water and you both step into the shower, the steam now filling the room. Max has an assortment of body washes and shampoos, ranging from musky to citrusy and floral scents. You step closer to Max as he takes some lavender body wash and begins to rub it down your back, his hands dancing over the rest of your body as he starts to wash you. “I know I keep saying this, but you are so beautiful” Max sighs, running his hands over your ass, grabbing a cheek in each hand. “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome” you giggle against Max’s neck.
You both spend at least an hour in the shower, washing each other, chatting and sharing a few more intimate moments. Soon, the wine from dinner, the warm shower water, the scent of lavender and your fatigue from your orgasms starts to take its toll and you feel your eyelids drooping. Max finishes washing you and grabs a towel to help you dry off with. As your eyelids close completely Max has already scooped you up and walked back to the bed, placing you in the middle before wrapping you up in blankets and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight my love” he whispers. “Mmmm” you moan, already in a dream state. Max soon gets under the covers with you, embracing you tightly as he watches you sleep, twirling his fingers through your hair. The smell of lavender on your skin soon lulls Maxwell to sleep.
The next morning you wake up, dazed and a little hungover, but well rested. As you look around the room, you survey the many pieces of clothes, miscellaneous items and wine bottles strewn across the floor in a tornado of passion from the night before. As your eyes adjust to the sun, you see Max in an under-shirt and pyjama pants over by the dining table. Max, in his own little world, frantically setting the dining table with some breakfast Alfred had brought up while you were sound asleep. He’s making sure everything is laid out perfectly, straightening the cutlery and pouring Orange Juice and Champagne into a glass from the bar. He hears the cotton sheets move behind him, immediately turning around to see if you’re awake. “Good morning beautiful” Max hums, rushing over to the bed to pepper your cheeks and lips with hundreds of little kisses. “Morning handsome” you giggle, running your hands through Max’s hair, in an attempt to match your bed hair. “Are you hungry, mi amor?” he asks between kisses. “I’m famished” you reply, stretching to help you wake up more. As you writhe around in the sheets you notice you’re wearing a chiffon baby doll.
“I hope you don’t mind I uh, had it in the wardrobe & wasn’t sure if you liked to sleep naked so I put it on you just after you fell asleep.” Max laughs, scratching the back of his head. You blush, feeling embarrassed that you got that drunk, but Max’s reassuring smile makes you feel at ease. “I do usually sleep naked, but I like it, it makes me feel beautiful”. Max sighs “so beautiful”, wrapping you up in a tight embrace and planting a single kiss on your forehead. Max scoops you up and carries you out of bed before you lightly plant your feet onto the carpeted floor. As you glance over to the dining table, Max comes up behind you and helps you slip on a long beautiful chiffon robe, accented with feathers on the hem.
“Another little something for my beautiful mariposa” Max coos, kissing your cheek before pulling out your chair at the dining table. You feel like you’re walking on clouds as you step over to your chair and sit down, Max flapping a napkin onto your lap. “Oh my goodness Max you’re such a gentleman” you blush. “My mother taught me to show women the highest level of respect and care. She made me the man who I am today.” Max replies, looking out the window momentarily. You outstretch your arm across the table to squeeze Max’s hand “And she would be so proud of the man that you’ve become” you beam with a sweet smile. Max soon draws your attention to the diverse spread of pastries on the table, pointing out the different fillings of each and asks if you would like coffee. You nod before noticing a large bouquet of red roses in the middle of the table. As Max places a few pastries on your plate, you feel a sense of intense attraction wash over you like a wave.
Your internal monologue starts to read back to itself, reflecting on how loving, generous and respectful Max is towards you. How much he takes care of you and oh god, how handsome he looks…you start to feel aroused by this somewhat submissive gentleman, sensing a rising heat from your core. Max submitted to your every want and desire last night, raising you up and worshipping you like a goddess, now you wanted to submit to him. Knowing now that you can be vulnerable and honest around Max, you lean back in your chair, biting down on a blueberry pastry.
To be continued..... ;) muahahahaha
a special thanks to the users below for the inspiration and encouragment!
@pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @maxlordsgf @rav3n-pascal22, @pedrostories, @absurdthirst @pedrosbrat
#maxwelllord#maxlord#max lord x reader#max lord x you#max lord smut#maxwelllord smut#max lord x f!reader#maxwell lord x f!reader
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show me you're shameless
the one where i upload the 2nd chapter 5 months after the first :)) so sorry skskss. anyways... CLUB FIC CHAPTER 2, BABYYY. And it’s getting smutty! Works fine on its own, but reading chapter 1 first does add that *extra spice*
Rating: E
Words: 5.8k
Read here or on Ao3
Besides the obvious bruising and swelling caused by Manson’s punch, Jake is unharmed and allowed to leave the hospital right after his debrief. Officer Wilson nicely offers to give him a ride home and after the day he’s had, which Jake gladly accepts - the faster he gets home, the faster he gets to see Amy. By the time he steps out of the car, onto the sidewalk framing Amy’s apartment building, and tells Wilson thanks for the ride, it’s closing in on two am. The streets of Brooklyn are as desert as the city that never sleeps can be, rather unusually quiet, but Jake can’t think about anything else but the painkillers he’s about to pop, the girlfriend he gets to kiss, and last but not least the soft bed that’ll promise him a good night’s sleep.
Or so he thinks.
The second he steps a foot into the apartment, using the spare key Amy gave him a few weeks ago which he proudly accepted, making him feel that more committed to their blossoming relationship, Jake immediately notices that something is not quite how it usually is. And if there’s something he loves about Amy and her place it’s how routine is everywhere to be found - from the tiny key-hook by the front door that holds Amy’s keys to how he knows the painkillers are stashed in the little pink plastic basket on the right top shelf of the bathroom sink cabinet. Tonight the atmosphere feels out of routine, almost making Jake feel like a stranger in an apartment that’s somewhat his own (they’re not quite there yet but they’re mostly at her place so).
It’s not just because the only elements lighting up the blacked-out apartment are candles (quite many of them) which in itself is very weird because no way Amy Santiago would go to bed with a candle, let alone tens of them, lit. The scene screams fire hazard. Jake himself has a hard time putting a finger on it, but somehow the entire energy seems different. It’s as if, somehow, the air is charged with a certain electricity, and, for a second, Jake wonders if he’s accidentally let himself into the wrong apartment - but that’s not possible, right? No way Amy’s key works for other front doors.
His keys make a by now familiar clinking sound as he places them on the key-hook, on top of Amy’s. A routine amidst the estranged feeling of this situation. Although he’d hoped and would’ve loved it if Amy had stayed up and waited for him, he knows his girlfriend’s schedule is highly prioritized (even over him, he learned very early on) and so he ignores her absence. What he can’t ignore is that Amy would’ve gone to bed with multiple candles still burning. Her silver three-arm candelabra on the dinner table, her rose-scented block candle on the coffee table, multiple smaller ones in the windows and around the couch/tv-area…
“Ames?” he calls out, loud enough to catch her attention if she’s awake but low enough to not wake her if she’s asleep.
Silence.
He quickly shrugs off the absence of her reception, and, as per a routine he likes to think of as “domestic”, a new feeling and aspect being with Amy has introduced him to, he kicks off his shoes. Instead of leaving them to clutter up the room, like he would if it were his own apartment, he neatly aligns them with hers on her little shoe rack. His coat goes on on a coat stand instead of a random chair. It’s small gestures like these that make him feel more in sync with his girlfriend. This also leads him to go around the room to blow out the candles. He knows Amy will appreciate him doing it, but he’s just barely put out one candelabra-light when his beliefs are contradicted.
Someone clears their throat and it has Jake freeze in his spot by the dinner table, much like a deer caught in headlights - a Jake caught in candlelights, one could say. All he can see is a silhouette standing in the hallway. Only just barely lit by the candles’ tiny flames, casting the otherwise dark room in a yellow and orange glow, it’s hard to see anything clearly. Still, there’s no doubt in Jake’s mind: It’s Amy.
From the way her silhouette almost looks naked, her curves on full display, he can tell she’s still wearing the infamous red skintight dress. Her now messy dark locks frame her face - her beautiful , amazing face - and scatter onto her bare shoulders which are only covered by the sleek dress straps. She looks flushed, luminous, and Jake can’t help but wonder whether it’s the candlelight or the sudden heat he’s sensing. Did it actually just get really hot in here or just him?
“You don’t like my candles?”
The sound of Amy’s voice is something Jake is very familiar with by now. Her presence has become something his senses immediately tap into, yet when she speaks, red, perfect lips shaping the words with precision, Jake feels his heart skip a beat as if it’s the first time seeing her. His jaw drops to the floor and he surely looks like an idiot, stuck in the same spot with no audible reaction. It surely doesn’t help when his girlfriend walks up to him in a way that has her look like a goddess on a runway. Slow, sleek, and surely she steps up to him as if she isn’t wearing uncomfortably tall stilettos. If Jake hadn’t previously listened to her complain about how awful these heels were then he’d beg her to wear them forever.
“I- uh- yes? No? I don’t know?”
A cocky chuckle gushes from her lips. It’s obvious that she has him right where she wants him, physically and mentally, and from the burning look in her eyes, he can tell she has a plan for them to follow tonight whilst she, hopefully, wears that dress (at least for some of it).
“I thought I’d try to make the most of the night...” Her eyes switch to the clock on her wall. Five past two. Her brown irises slot back together with his. “What we’ve got left at least.”
He’s so entranced by her sultry gaze, mystery and mischief glowing in her eyes, that, until he suddenly feels her hands on his hips, he fails to notice how far across the room she’s made it. Now her warm breath is bedewing his neck, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt and Jake’s never been good at chess but this feels a lot like checkmate.
He doesn’t say anything. Quite honestly unable to do anything else, he utters just the sound of his breath hitching in his throat, but Amy’s happy; it’s enough to reveal his true sentiments when she gracefully pops the first button with her sleek fingers. She pauses and holds his gaze.
“I’m really glad we ran into each other tonight.”
Already very much confused and barely able to grasp what reality he’s in at this point, Jake offers her little statement a frown. Ran into each other? They literally went to the club together, what does she mean-
“Most guys I run into at that club are usually barely mediocre...”
Oh… OH. It all suddenly clicks. That’s what she’s doing.
“... but you...” she interrupts herself by biting into her newly applied lipstick, showing off just how white her teeth are, as she moves on to pop the next button in line. “... you look like someone worth spending a night with.”
The colorful lights, the loud bass, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol, their moment of weakness in the scummy bathroom; the sensation of being back in the club comes rushing back. All of this, along with it the thought of Amy Santiago being his scandalous one-night stand, flicks a switch within him. Being with her every day is indeed a much better deal, one he’d never want to change, but this fictional role of the one-night stand he’s been put in? Definitely works for him too. Now he just needs to get up to speed and make up for time wasted on being utterly obvious. Luckily Amy Santiago can turn him on easily as a faucet.
“Yeah? You do this a lot, eh-?” He attempts, dabbling and getting comfortable in his newfound role.
“Cassidy.”
“Oh yeah, cool cool cool. Cassidy.”
After this infamous fumbling, figuring things out, he shifts back into gear. His voice descends into a darker tone, as well as his eyes - and don’t even get him started on his train of thoughts. His hands, up until now stuck by his sides, gently latch onto her waist instead and the soft feel of her dress, silk, he guesses, helps him adopt the exact right mindset for this game.
“So, Cassidy ,” he emphasizes the name as to get familiar with its taste, immediately learning that it savors of something poisonous and addicting. “You do this a lot? Take home guys without even knowing their name or telling them yours?”
Meanwhile, Amy’s already popped another button, revealing a good chunk of his chest, and has to tear her eyes away from it to meet his villainous gaze. There is no fighting it, and she willingly dives right into him as one would in a pool. Although instead of a clear blue mass of water, her’s is a dive right into a sinful twilight that’s slowly but surely consuming them both.
“Well,” she abandons the last two buttons untouched and sneaks her left hand down to the front of his pants to be met what she’s been patiently waiting for all night. A bulge, still quite modest but without a doubt present and growing. After all, they’re just getting started. “All you needed to do was ask for it. Like I’m going to do now: what’s your name?”
She grins, her eyes as well as her lips, and it takes every muscle in Jake’s body to think of a name, stay in the role, all while he’s not to give in to the hand that’s unmistakably cupping him through his pants.
“I bet you’re used to asking for what you want.” He’s kind of proud of that line, he must admit. “... And I’m Andrew.”
“Good to know, Andrew. And yeah…” she tightens her grip on him just a tad more, “it’s the easiest way to get what I want.”
“And what exactly do you want?”
Just like hers had moments ago, Jake’s hands slowly travel south and back, getting two handfuls of her ass and the fabric that’s enhancing its perfect shape. He feels her breath sink into the skin of his neck and lower face, slowly and bit by bit becoming a part of him.
“Whatever you’re willing to give,” she kisses the side of his neck, feeling the dampness her breath has left behind. Turns out he tastes even better than usual, a mixture of him, cigarettes, and alcohol so having her lips let go already seems unnecessary.
“And what if what I’m willing to give isn’t enough?”
He shamelessly squeezes her ass, thanking God for this goddess of a woman he gets to call his, and he’d be lying if he said her sucking on his neck and the feeling of her full behind didn’t have him almost fully hard already.
“Then I’m not shy of a little... begging,” she physically punctuates her sentence by letting her teeth sink into the skin right below his jaw, and it immediately sends her man of the night into another dimension where he can’t hold back and play nice any longer. Luckily, she doesn’t want him to.
In the bat of an eye, he’s got her face cupped in his hands and their lips colliding with a hunger that makes it seem as if they’ve never kissed before this very moment. The kiss is clumsy, hungry as if they’ve been starving for days, and once in a while they can hear their teeth clacking, colliding.
“You’re so gorgeous, Am- Cassidy,” he’s quick to correct himself. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you at that club. Was wondering how a fucking goddess like you was hanging out in a shit-hole like that.”
He feels her hands cling onto his neck. In response, he has to let go of her face. Instead, his hands wander back down to his hips. Although rather than both slipping backward like earlier, one sneaks its way down and forward to get a grip on the hem of her dress.
“And wearing this dress? How could I not notice you and instantly dream of fucking you in it.”
This rewards him a tiny moan, airy and soft right into his ear where her lips happen to be nibbling on his earlobe, and Jake knows he’s giving her exactly what they both want.
“Touch me,” she breathes almost inaudibly and although he hears her he can’t help but push some buttons.
“What are you saying, baby?” He smirks, slowly forcing the dress-hem up the warm skin of her thighs. “Say it again - louder.”
“Touch me, please .”
With two fingers hooked around the red fabric he drags it up to stop right by her pubic bone. “Only because you’re so good at asking for it. I might have you beg a bit later.”
She barely answers, only utters a little uhuh . The same two fingers slowly slip beyond the fabric and slide across the already damp gusset. It’s with a small victory smile that Jake carefully starts rubbing the area, immediately earning himself a small whimper. It falls from her lips as if it’s been waiting to do so for a long time now, and her head drops to rest on his shoulder.
“What did you say?” he cranes his neck in an attempt to get a glimpse of her face, but it’s mostly hidden in his neck. “Does that feel good?”
He doesn’t hear her but feels her nod against him, and so he adds a little more pressure with his fingers, digging into her through the fabric of what feels like lacy panties.
“I have barely touched you and you’re already this wet. Do you want more? Is this okay?” His tone doesn’t change by Amy can tell it’s Jake asking, not Andrew.
“Y-yes,” she whimpers, wishing he’d put more energy into touching her.
For a second Amy believes he can read her mind because as soon as the green light has officially been re-approved, her partner’s fingers force aside the gusset and gather some of her wetness to help embed themselves inside of her. He feels her shuffle on the spot in an attempt to stay on her feet and squirm a bit around him when his middle finger penetrates her, all to be summed up by a soft moan into his neck.
“God, you’re soaked, baby. Do you know how good that feels? Do you feel good?” he slowly starts moving his fingers inside of her, in a pattern he knows she enjoys, and he has to use his free hand to stabilize her as he challenges her with a quicker pace.
“S-so good. More, please.”
Her wish is his command, and he immediately meets it by switching up the pace to which he can hear and feel her react right away.
“This is so hot,” he breathes into the top of her head, her hair already mussed and messy from their fooling around. “You look amazing, you feel amazing. Kinda just wanna keep you in this dress. It looks fantastic on you.”
Busy whimpering and grinding along to the pace of his fingers, Amy has no time to reply and instead gives in to his upper hand. There’s something so exciting, so hot, not only about the roleplay but also the spontaneity of things, the way they haven’t even made their way out of the dining/living room. If Jak- Andrew wants to, he can have her right then and there. She wouldn’t mind one bit…
Caught up in a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts, trapped in the vessel that is her quivering body, it comes as a surprise when suddenly Jake nudges her in the direction of the dining table. Making sure to stay away from the still lit candelabra, Jake backs her up against the wooden surface.
“Sit,” he prompts and helps her over the edge of the table, safely seating her on it and as a consequence, his fingers slip out of her. They’re glistening with her juices and when he runs his hand across her thigh, her skin is smeared with her own lust. Then he nudges her legs further apart for him to fit in-between. The tight dress has by now suffered a lot of moving, already pushed up above her hips and creased into a bunch around her lower belly, which, once he’s ripped off her panties, leaves him with open access to where they both want him to bee.
“Wanna taste you,” he huffs into the kiss he’s pulled her into, leaving them both breathing hard and yearning for air when he retreats to sink to his knees. He’s left at the perfect height. “I’m gonna make you forget about all the guys before me.”
And he sure keeps his promise.
He dives right into the sacred space between her legs, tongue first, drawing circles around and with her clit, while his hands are forged onto her shivering thighs, making sure they stay wide open and spread for him. Her heaves and tiny breaths escape her with shorter and shorter intervals, promising them both a climax, which his tongue follows, focusing on all the right spots. He continuously eats her out like he’s been starved and deprived for God knows how long, and she’s his main course.
“I-I’m almost there.”
She dares to let go of the table, just one hand, and plants it in his messy locks, which are already sweaty and wild from his rummaging between her legs. The tugging throws him into a higher gear that demands extra help from his fingers, still wet from earlier, which makes entering her easy. The second they sink into her, from the higher pitch of her moans, Jake can tell he acted wisely. She shakes, not only the thighs beneath her hands but her entire body, and he fights to keep up the pace that seems to be succeeding in bringing her closer to the edge. A few more pumps, licks and kisses to her inner thigh a couple of times before his tongue reunites with her clit for the final licks that have her climaxing with a loud moan, right there on the dinner table and his mouth. He pecks her heat a few more times as she comes down, then her inner thighs where he spreads her climax on her skin before standing up to see her leaned back onto the elbow that wasn’t tugging on his hair. The dress looks miserable crumpled up around her waist but something about it, paired with her closed eyes and messy makeup, leaves him with what he believes is the perfect picture. Her breathing is more or less just heaves and he lets her catch some air before he leans in to kiss her, open-mouthed as to allow her a taste of herself.
“Good?”
“So good,” she smiles right into the kiss, given a taste herself, eyes still closed as she focuses her energy on assembling herself for what is yet to come.
“Wanna see what you’re hiding in here,” she breathes but Jake barely hears it as all he can currently fixate on is her hand cupping the bulge in his pants, and her nimble fingers working the button and zipper open. Who said attending multiple meticulous and detail-oriented bomb-defusing classes would never come in handy?
“Wanna suck you off. I’ve been wanting to all night, even in that disgusting bathroom we met in. Could’ve sucked you off while you looked at yourself in that disgusting mirror.”
Though it’s pureoy fiction (at least for now - who knows?) Jake feels lightheaded just hearing her thoughts break free and let out into the open. Despite the fact he could never ask her to kneel on the club bathroom’s disgusting floor that, so filthy it stuck to your shoes when walking on it, just the thought of it does ignite something within him. One second they’re still making out, Amy on the table with Jake standing in between her legs, the next she’s got his pants unbuttoned and unzipped thus proceeding to push herself off the table, consequently pulling both his pants and boxers down at once (which kinda impresses Jake - he’s not gonna lie) as she gets descends to her knees.
Cassidy, Amy, whoever she is in this moment, doesn’t waste time. Jake admires the adulterated hunger in her eyes as she wraps her fingers around his hard, pre-cum leaking cock to give it a few assisting pumps before leaning in to kiss the head. Her gaze diverts from his hard-on to his eyes, up at him through thick and black mascara-coated lashes, as she gives the very tip a tiny, almost experimental, lick. Just the sight and feel of her tongue on him, her saliva mixing with his pre-cum is enough to send him to heaven, but he sure doesn’t complain when the innocent lap is succeeded by a full-on licking motion that goes around his full girth.
“Gosh, you’re killing me.”
He reaches for her cheek, stroking it with his thumb as if to praise her for her actions. “You like this, huh? Hunting down your preys, taking them home… only for you to become the prey.”
Nothing is answered, at least not verbally. Instead, she slowly goes down on the length, lips stretched to the max around him and batting her eyelids as her gagging reflex is challenged. His hand leaves her cheek and instead travels to the back of her head where it can get a good grip on her hair. Here it settles on following her movement as she bobs her head, swallowing him again and again. The grip on her doesn’t have a real purpose, he doesn’t try to control or force anything with it. All it really does is provide him with another pleasing aspect of feeling her movements, giving him some sense of staying grounded when the thrill becomes too much and he starts losing himself to the thrill of her actions.
“Fuck, you look so good on your knees like this, and…” He’s interrupted by his own growl, escaping him the second he feels a very soft scratching of her teeth against his pulsing member. It takes him a few seconds to recollect himself. She’s sucking him off like a champion, one hand by the base, the other on his thigh, steady rhythm and small hums in between. Hums that he’ll remember till the day he dies. “Your lips stretched around my cock like this? Like they were made for it, fuck. I’m not gonna last though - not if you keep eating me up like this.”
Her lips offer him a few more pumps, slowing down to a halt and leaving her in his mouth for a few seconds before she lets him slip out of her mouth, leaving a thin thread of a mix of saliva and pre-cum to hang on for dear life between her lips and his cock. She can taste him and he can see his discharge on her lips glowing in the candlelight. Her knees are pink and raw when she stands back up, hair messier than ever, and dress crumpled, bunched up around her waist. She’s amazing, Jake thinks, in awe of how he landed someone as perfect as her - in every way imaginable. Tonight is just one of many aspects, and every day with her is truly the best day ever
“C’mere,” he pulls her in by the waist, too caught up to let her go for even a second, and without even thinking twice his right hand cups her heat, feeling the wetness seep through her lips and trimmed bush. Just what he’d hoped for. “You’re gonna start dripping on the floor if we keep going like this.”
“Would you like that?” she breathes onto the shell of his ear, grinding into his hand, and sending shivers down his spine.
“Yeah, I would… But I’d rather put how absolutely soaked you are to good use.” He slips his middle finger in between her folds, gathering wetness, feeling her squirm. “I’d much rather fuck you right into this wall…” he backs her into the nearest wall that’s clear of shelves and pictures frames, a low-risk area per se, “... while you’re wearing this stupidly hot dress.”
She’s sucking bruises into his neck, not allowing him to see her face, but the second her back hits the wall she’s back to kissing her way up to his lips. Here she tugs on his plump, still bruised bottom lip before dropping her head backward, letting it lull against the wall. Her eyes are darker than ever, brown irises borderline black, as she stares right into his. “Do it then.”
“Do what?” he challenges. He wants to hear her say it. Every word, every syllable.
“Fuck me. Up against this wall. Wearing this red dress.” She pulls down the skirt, just to cover her ass and give him the full dress-experience rather than it just being fabric bundled up around her waist. “ Please .”
It sure is impossible to not act when she bats her eyes at him, spilling filthy words, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Before he’s even fully aware, his animalistic instinct takes over and has him holding up her leg with one hand, the other giving his cock a few pumps prior to guiding the tip through her folds.
“Cond-”
She’s quick to interrupt. She knows it’s his character asking, since, in reality, they both know they’re clean and she’s on the pill - though she appreciates the effort of staying in character and the fact that Andres is a reasonable man.
“Fuck me. Raw.”
“You’re something else, Cassidy,” he chuckles, and having already gathered enough wetness on him he pushes into her, slowly and torturously, feeling her heat take him in and hearing her moan shatter the silence.
“Yes,” she hisses at the stretch, her uplifted leg leaving her more open and the piercing sensation somewhat smoother.
He starts slow, rocking into her with ease.
“You look so hot. Can’t believe you’re letting me take you right here up against a wall. Fucking filthy.”
He eventually picks up her other leg as he picks up speed and by the time he’s fully slamming into her with a powerful pace that has her legs shaking, he’s fully holding her off the floor and fucking her into the beige wall behind her. She moans with every thrust, every collision between her body and the wall, thumps, as she holds onto his shoulders for dear life, thighs burning from clinging onto his hips. The angle at which he penetrates her is just perfect, hitting and stimulating all the right zones, and, even comparing to the loads of amazing sex they’ve had, this, without a doubt , goes in the top three. The wall is cold against her back, creating a sizzling contrast to the heat forming between their rubbing fronts. His shoulders and arms are flexing under her weight, and now there’s no denying that Jake Peralta the hottest guy she’s even been with.
“R-right there, ah, yes,” she hisses, head pressed back into the wall, the friction messing up her hair.
“This feel good, huh?”
“So good- fuck , harder, please.”
“You feel so good around me, you know that? All wet, all tight… Just like your dress. Fucking gorgeous.”
He picks up the pace, putting great effort that has him sweating through his nice shirt, never fully removed, as he works her up, almost as if he hopes to leave an outline of her on the wall. Her moans pick up the pace, turning into small squeals that can barely come to an end before a new one takes over, and Jake can tell she’s closing in on a climax. So is he.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, J-Jake.”
It flies out of her, beyond her control. It’s hard to stay in character when your groin is one fire like (almost) never before, but she was the one to start the roleplay and he’s going to keep her in it. You have to finish what you started.
“Who’s Jake?” the trust going in with his name is extra hard and earns him a loud whimper, topping all other sounds so far, as if to apologize for her mess-up. “Is he some other guy who you’ve taken home and gotten fucked by?”
“S-sorry, bad habit,” she leans in to kiss him in hopes of making him forget or at least let go.
“Do I fuck you better than he did? Huh?”
She doesn’t say anything but keeps moaning, her pitch gradually becoming higher.
“Tell me,” he momentarily lets go of a leg, feeling her ankles hook together behind his back, to cup her cheek and force her to look right into his eyes. “Have you been fucked like this before?”
“N-no,” she stutters in-between his cocks collision with what he knows is her good spot.
“Couldn’t hear you,” he growls, provoked, and dying to hear the statement in its entirety fall from her sinfully pink lips now that he’s gnawed off the red lipstick. Almost synchronously to his demand, he picks up the pace, heading for the last stretch, which he knows might not be the smartest when he wants her to speak. But Amy Santiago loves a good challenge. To his surprise, the always so consistent woman completely fails, moans turning into small screams as she chases her peak, and Jake can only forgive her inability to answer him right away. It doesn’t refrain him from insisting a few moments later though.
“What did you say, baby?”
Every word is punctuated with a thrust, thrusts that go deeper than before, and Amy on her part is a wreck barely clinging onto him and the wall behind her.
“I-I said…” melts into a groan when he, once again, strikes just the right spot. “I said that I’ve never been fucked like this before.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Jake grins rather proudly even though, in reality, he’s competing with himself. Beads of sweat trickle down from under his wavy bangs who by now are very much soaked, plastered to his forehead like a wet (but also kinda cute, if you ask Amy) mop. In every which way possible, there’s something very special and satisfying about a chuffing, puffed-up, sweaty Jake holding her like he currently is, taking on this commanding role of Andrew, and Amy is sure: she won’t mind revisiting this act some other time.
“Be a good girl: suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.”
His hand that was once on her cheek presents itself, and Amy doesn’t even have the time to feel embarrassed about how quickly, without any second thought, she opens her mouth for them. Obeying is part of her DNA and dutiful as Amy Santiago is she immediately welcomes his index and middle finger into her mouth, sucking on them with a great commitment that Jake undoubtedly appreciates.
“Good girl,” he praises, their eyes’ locked in their perhaps most intense staring contest ever. Amy makes sure to take his fingers all the way in, lips reaching his knuckles, and Jake almost forgets his agenda.
Keyword: almost.
After slowing down the pace of his thrusts and retracting his fingers, to Amy’s great chagrin, the hand drops to between her legs, and his fingers are added to the mix, the chasing of her climax, and oh it definitely works. Amy’s whining reaches a brand new level, hitting a high note he’s never heard before, and he can feel her tense around his cock and fingers. She’s almost there, and even though Amy, in the red strappy dress, taking him so well, is a piece of art that he’d like to hang on a wall forever, he knows she needs release. And so does he.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that. Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s very distracting yet I can’t look away.”
High-pitched moans and whimpers are all he gets in return. His fingers slip out of her heat, now even wetter than after being sucked on, but don’t go far and redirect to give her clit the final attention.
“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” He chuckles, leaning in just far enough to peck her lips, and if they hadn’t only been dating for a couple of months, the best couple of months ever , he would be pretty sure of the fact that he’s very much in love with Amy Santiago, Cassidy, Dora and every other version of his incredible girlfriend.
“T-then don’t.”
So he doesn’t, her word is her command after all, and a couple of strokes and thrusts later, nibbling on her clavicle with just a bit more teeth than intended but too blown away to be able to control it, she lets out a cry as she comes apart around him. Limbs going limp, just barely managing to cling onto his body and avoiding a fall to the floor, Amy reaches and crashes completely, hitting a climax for the record books. Jake follows right behind, coming into her, riding it out with her aftershock, and then the room goes silent as if nothing had happened. Only their heavy breathing is to be heard.
“Shit,” she pants.
“The good kind?” he chuckles pulling out of her, but still carrying her.
“The very good kind, Andrew . Maybe the best one yet.”
They share a small laugh as she pushes his sweaty hair back, admiring the admiration in his eyes that seconds ago were darker than the pitch-black night sky outside her window. How fast they can switch will never cease to amaze her.
“Kinda sucks I let another man beat that record.”
“Well…” she leans in, offering him a consolatory kiss that he gladly accepts, before she pulls back, just an inch, to whispers against his lips. “The night is young. Andrew had his turn, now Jake Peralta can show me his worth.”
“Holy shit- Amy Santiago, you’re going to be the death of me.”
It’s safe to say that Jake wins back the record and Amy eventually ends up washing her dress. Twice. On the warmest setting possible.
#this is just a pile of filth im so so sorry#very much rated E#peraltiago#smut#jake x amy#jake and amy#b99#brooklyn nine nine#Brooklyn nine-nine#oneshot
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The School Smugglers
Year 7 - Chapter 69
Summary: Severus tries carve a better path for himself but finds it more difficult then expected.
Word count: 1614
Previous Chapter - Chapter 1
~
Severus lost himself as he slowly stirred his cauldron. Every thought he had in every minute of every day this past week had been about you. How sad you were, how different you’d been, how reserved you’d become. He’d never felt alone before when he was with you, even when you were just friends, your company had always felt comforting. But every time you sat next to him, it was like you weren’t even there. You’d stopped sleeping next to him, claiming you were too tired to sneak into his dorm. He’d only seen you twice outside of class for more than five minutes since the incident with Connor and both times you had your nose in a book, barely conversing with him. He wasn’t sure how long this would go for or if he’d ever be able to regain your trust again, but every night before he left the Gryffindor tower, you’d tell him you loved him. Every night he’d walk to the dungeons smiling, his heart fluttering with hope and lust for your relationship and every night he went to sleep wondering if the next day would get any better.
He stared down at his potion and immediately yanked his spoon out of the cauldron, realizing his stirred it one more than it needed. Drops of the potion splattered all over his table when he flung his spoon as more dripped from the end as he held it, staring at it with no care whatsoever. His grades had dropped this past week, something you had yet to notice and he dreaded what would happen if he kept it up. He needed the grades if he wanted to make anything of himself, just one step into proving his value to the Wizarding world. But right now, at this moment, he could care less about his values, his goals and ambitions. He could care less about this damn potion. He’d let it turn to sewage water to get back to normal with you.
With a heavy sigh, he turned off his burner and set the cauldron down to cool as he retrieved some vials. He poured as many as he could and stuffed them into a pouch before cleaning up and gathering his belongings to drop them off. He clutched the strap of his bag as he began walking down the hall from the potions classroom to the drop off point, waiting in anticipation until finally he heard footsteps coming his way. His heart quickened as they grew nearer. He played back the speech he’d spent all night preparing in his head and as Avery emerged from the shadows, his body tensed, his expression stern with determination.
“Snape,” Avery greeted him so casually, like they were meeting up for lunch. He stood there, waiting for Severus to hand over the vials but he had to say his piece first. He couldn’t let his plan fail this time, it’s over for him and it was time for him to start craving a better path for himself.
“This is my last batch, Avery. I’m done.” His tone stayed firm, his face stiff as he stood up straight and held his ground. Seconds passed by like hours as he tried to read Avery’s response through his body language, but it was like time had stood still, taunting him for daring to try and improve himself. As he shifted his weight, he wondered if Avery had even heard what he said. Was it all in his head? Had he practiced his lines so much that he fooled even himself into believing they were real? He opened his mouth to say it again when Avery suddenly burst into laughter.
“Good one Snape. I truly believed you for a moment.” Avery smiled as he crossed his arms. It was a joke to him, just as he’d been a joke to the house of Slytherin all these years, believing he could be one of them if he lent out his skills and did what he was told. He’d spent so much effort, so much time trying to fit in, trying to find a place to belong, thinking that if his mother once belonged to Slytherin, he could too. It was foolish to think that way, but he was young and he didn’t know he didn’t have to cater to others to belong. No more. He was going to correct his mistakes and he didn’t care what they thought of him anymore. “Now hand them over so we can go our separate ways.”
“I’m serious.” Severus didn’t move a muscle as he looked Avery straight in the eye. He needed him to accept this termination before any other exchange occurred.
“No, you’re not.”
“I am.” Avery’s smile finally dropped as he seemed to understand the seriousness in Severus’ statement. He clenched his jaw and Severus gripped the strap of his bag tighter as he waited for the rebuttal.
“Snape, that’s not how this works mate. Nobody quits something like this.” Severus was rather disappointed in the response. He wasn’t expecting a flat-out rejection, though he wasn’t surprised. No one else at this school would be able to brew as well as him. At least no one they could hire.
“Well, allow me to be the first.” Severus smirked as he held his head up. Whether Avery and the rest of them accepted it or not, he was done with this business and he was done with all of them.
“You’re not hearing me, Snape. Nobodycan quit. The only way out is if you drop dead, but if that’s what you want mate, I’d be happy to help you ‘give your resignation’.” Severus’ shoulders dropped at the insulting remark thrown his way. There had to be something he could do, a middle ground they could find but before he could say anything else, Avery snatched his bag from him and tore it open, searching for the vials. “Look Snape, even if you manage to leave, you don’t think you’d be able to leave unscathed, do you? I mean, you’re lucky your only punishment for prancing around with the enemy was public exile from your own house.”
“If that’s what it’ll take to leave, then so be it. I’ll take whatever comes my way.” Avery found the vials and tossed the rest of his belongings to the ground before looking back at Severus.
“Can (Y/L/N) take whatever comes her way?” Severus’ eyes pierced into his with anger. How dare he speak your name! How dare he threaten you like this! He clenched his fists, but as always, he knew he couldn’t do anything because it wasn’t just Avery and the others that would be to blame if any harm came your way, he shared the blame as well. Something he would have to live with for the rest of his life but how was he supposed to make a better life for himself, for you if he couldn’t get out of this stupid deal.
“Stay away from her! She has nothing to do with this.” Severus rose his tone in anger, one hand slipping from his backpack strap to where his wand was concealed beneath his robes. If he had to send a message through Avery then so be it, but he wasn’t going to have them threatening you again. He’d die before he let anything happen to you.
“What world do you live in, Snape? She’s the reason you have this job mate.” Avery looked as though the answer was obvious, like you weren’t worth the trouble and he was a buffoon for forgetting his place. But Avery was the foolish one for not accepting his resignation, for not seeing how amazing you were and what a great opportunity he had with you.
Severus wanted to tell him off, to show him he had no right denying him his freedom, but Avery had his only leverage. He looked up to find a smirk of victory smeared on Avery’s face as he gripped the vials tightly in his hands. “I’ll see you in a month, Snape.”
Just like that Severus was left to the mess on the floor, tossed aside like trash on the sidewalk. He watched his second chance walk back into the shadows, disappearing along with his faith before sinking to the ground and slowly began to pick up all his belongings. His arms felt like noodles about to fall off as he carelessly tossed things back into his bag. His mind was blank, his body shaking with fear of what was to come next. No matter how he looked at it, whatever path he chose now would lead to danger for the both of you. He couldn’t risk your safety, but he didn’t want to lose you either.
He zipped up his bag and stood, but his legs refused to move. What was the point? It was hopeless. He was lost, a self-proclaimed failure. The only hope he had now was to find a time turner and reverse the awful mistake he made of aligning himself with Malfoy and his friends. He couldn’t keep this up, he couldn’t hide this business from you forever, but he couldn’t face the disappointment on your face if he told you. No, the safest bet for you was for him to find a way where they wouldn’t need him any longer. Perhaps his product will slowly decline in quality, or perhaps he won’t be able to fulfill their orders after graduation. The only thing he knew for sure was he needed to quit, and he needed to do so safely. Merlin only knows now how he’ll manage to escape the leash he was on.
~
Next Chapter
~
#severus snape#severus snape x reader#snape x reader#severus x reader#young severus snape#young severus snape x reader#my fic#my writing#pro snape#snapedom#female reader
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The Price of a Soul
Part 1/? - Agent Russel
Part 2/? - The Letter
Part 3/? - Miss Lake
Part 4/? - The Stewardess
Part 5/? - An Assassination
Part 6/? - Fallout
Part 7/? - Face to Face
Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils
Part 9/? - Baggage
Part 10/? - Private Funding
Part 11/? - Just Passing Through
Part 12/? - Party of Four
Part 13/? - Resolute
Part 14/? - The Wreck
Part 15/? - Body Snatchers
Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan
Part 17/? - A Miracle
Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance
Part 19/? - Nome
Part 20/? - The Future
Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome
Part 22/? - Up to Speed
Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays
Part 24/? - The Welcome Wagon
Part 25/? - Fugitives
Part 26/? - A Reluctant Accomplice
Part 27/? - Deja Vu
Part 28/? - Interview with a Madwoman
Hey, check it out, I’m still alive.
-
Peggy knew she couldn’t spend all her time moaning over the romantic dilemma life had presented her with. She let herself dwell on it for a moment, then forced her mind on to more practical matters. By the time they returned to the farmhouse, she’d decided how she wanted to approach this interrogation.
“I think you should talk to her first,” she told Kay. “While I’m out of sight.”
“You’re the one who knows her,” Kay protested.
“Yes, but she’s expecting me,” Peggy reminded her. “If we start with you, it’ll catch her off guard.” She did not want Dottie to think she was in a position to make demands.
Kay nodded slowly. “All right, you go down by the hood. I’ll open the back.”
The back boot opened with a creak. Peggy could immediately smell ammonia. At some point during the night, Dottie had needed to relieve herself and had been either unwilling or unable to hold it in. Peggy probably ought to have felt sorry for her, but after all Dottie had put her through, it was hard.
There was a silence that was just a bit too long to be the moment in which Kay pulled the tape off Dottie’s mouth, and Peggy found it rather reassuring that the woman could still be taken by surprise.
“Dobroye utro,” said Kay. That meant good morning. “Olga Barynova.”
“Kto ty?” asked Dottie. Who are you? Her voice was level and measured, deliberately toneless.
“I’m you, but smarter,” Kay replied in English. “You didn’t read the message. You didn’t think you needed to, because you already know everything. Surprise!”
There was another silence, as Dottie re-assessed the situation. Peggy wondered what was going on in her head.
“You won’t take me back,” Dottie said. “You’ll have to kill me.”
“You didn’t read the message,” Kay repeated. “Do you want to know what it said, or are you just going to lie there in a puddle of your own piss trying to pretend you know what you’re talking about?”
Peggy really did rather wish she could see the expression on Dottie’s face. It was probably well worth seeing.
“What did the message say?” asked Dottie.
“That I have no intention of turning you back over to them,” Kay reassured her. “I want you and I to go back together, and we’re gonna burn the place down.”
Dottie laughed. “That’s exactly what you would say if you were here to drag me back, because it’s exactly what I would say to you if our positions were reversed.”
“You don’t trust me?” asked Kay. “You sure do seem to trust Peggy Carter, and I’m pretty sure she wants to see you rot in jail for the rest of your life.”
“Peggy thinks she’s one of the good guys,” Dottie snorted. “She keeps her promises even when they’re stupid. If you’re anything like me, you don’t know what a promise is.”
Peggy decided that was her cue. She came and stepped into Dottie’s field of view. It had clearly been a rough night for Dottie in the trunk of the car. She’d evidently struggled quite a bit, trying to loosen the tape, and had not succeeded. There were red marks on the visible skin of her arms and legs where it had dug into her flesh. Her hair was in disarray. She did look momentarily surprised when Peggy came into view, but hid it quickly.
“Peggy, Peggy, Peggy,” she said, clucking her tongue “You of all people should know better than to partner up with one of us. We’re bad news.”
“I decided I needed some expert advice,” Peggy replied. “Despite what Chief Thompson thinks, I am not nearly deranged enough to think like you do.”
“I’m not deranged,” said Dottie. “I know exactly what I’m doing. You just can’t believe that because it doesn’t align with your goals.”
“You want revenge,” said Kay. “You want to get back into the USSR un-noticed and destroy the people who made you. You don’t want another little girl to ever become what you are.”
“I’m not that altruistic,” Dottie replied. “I was seven years old when they put me and my best friend in a ring together and told us that only one could leave. I just want them to suffer.” She smiled tranquilly.
“So do I,” Kay promised.
“I don’t believe you,” Dottie told her flatly. “What’s in this for you, Peggy? Or are you the altruistic one?”
Peggy decided on the truth. “Kay has informed me that one of Captain America’s men is a prisoner in the USSR,” she said. “I want to help rescue him.”
“Aw, you’re doing it for love,” said Dottie. “That’s cute. So what makes you think I have any idea where to find him?”
“Because the same place that made us is also working on him,” said Kay. “He’s part of the Winter Soldier program.”
“And you don’t know where to find that?” Dottie asked suspiciously.
“My information is out of date,” Kay replied.
“I promise,” said Peggy. “I will not return you to your masters. I’m not sure what I am going to do with you, but I know to give you back to them would mean your death.”
“Oh, no,” Dottie shook her head. “It would be way worse than that.”
“I will rescue Sergeant Barnes, and you two may do what you wish with this Red Room and the people in it,” Peggy said. “But I promise that when I leave Russia again, I will take you with me.”
“What happens if I refuse?” asked Dottie. “Are you going to send me back to jail to have you hanged for treason, Peggy? I know you’re not going to kill me… that’s not your style.”
“No, but it’s mine,” said Kay. “And I doubt she’ll shed a single tear.” She took out a pocket knife. “I know you’re thinking of how you’re going to run away, or how you’re going to betray us both, but keep in mind. I know all your moves. I know all your hiding places. There is nothing you can do, and nowhere you can go, that I cannot anticipate. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes,” Dottie said. “I understand perfectly.”
“Do you agree, then? You will help Peggy to find Sergeant Barnes, and in return I will help you to destroy the Red Room?”
“Absolutely,” said Dottie.
Peggy knew they couldn’t trust her, and realized she was counting on Kay to make sure they could keep Dottie under control. Kay had asked Peggy to trust her, hadn’t she? Now there was no choice. Was there a chance this still might turn around? That Kay might turn out to be the enemy after all?
It didn’t matter. Peggy was already in this too deep. Sunk Cost might have been a fallacy, but when the cost involved was one’s freedom and reputation, there wasn’t much to be done.
“It’s a deal, then,” said Kay, and started cutting the tape off Dottie.
“So,” said Dottie, entirely too casual. “It’s Kay, is it?”
“It is,” said Kay. “And what are you calling yourself these days, Olga?”
“Not Olga,” Dottie replied. “Olga Barynova died years ago. I like the name Peggy uses for me. After all, I am quite dotty, and I tend to do things under the table.” She looked at Peggy and smiled.
Peggy did not smile back.
“Then that’s what we’ll call you,” said Kay. She finished cutting the tape, and began peeling it off. “You’re hungry and dehydrated after being in that trunk all night. Come inside and we’ll give you something to eat.” They’d saved some of their own breakfast for her. “And you can tell us everything you know about the Winter Soldiers.”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Dottie wagged a finger. “I’m not stupid. I’m not telling you anything until you’ve held up your end of the bargain. When we’re in Russia and haven’t been caught, then I’ll tell you where we’re going.”
Peggy would have protested, but Kay just shrugged. “That sounds fair,” she said.
“And how are we supposed to know what part of Russia we’re going to?” asked Peggy.
“That I can tell you after breakfast,” Dottie said. “Don’t worry about money, I’ve got some stashed away for the occasion. Now where’s that food. I’m starving.”
The two women sat and watched Dottie eat her breakfast, and Peggy’s misgivings only increased. Talking to Dottie had reminded her rather sharply that Kay was a master manipulator… she’d manipulated Peggy when Kay had been the one in prison, and now she’d managed to play Dottie, too, something Peggy would have thought was next to impossible. Now it was her, of all people, whom Peggy had to trust with her life, because the only alternatives were jail or Dottie.
Somewhere along the line she’d made a terrible mistake. In fact, the longer this went on, the more Peggy was sure the whole thing had been a series of terrible mistakes, right back to…
… well, no. Not staying in New York wasn’t a mistake, because if she’d done that, Steve would still be frozen in the arctic ice right now. And anything she’d done after that… no, there was really no point at which she could have extracted herself from this and not gotten in trouble for it. Not unless she was willing to admit that getting Steve back at all was a mistake, and she couldn’t possibly say that. Or could she? When Kay had told her outright that this wasn’t how history was ‘supposed’ to go, maybe it was a mistake.
It didn’t matter now, did it? The future was already changed, and they couldn’t go back and fix it.
Dottie devoured the breakfast they’d set out for her without the slightest thought of table manners, stuffing so much in her mouth that Peggy was afraid she’d choke. Once she’d satisfied her hunger, she asked for some twigs from the woods. Peggy sat with her while Kay brought back an armful they’d already gathered up, intending to use them as kindling. Dottie selected the ones she liked the shapes of, and arranged them into a map of the USSR.
“We won’t get in from the west,” she said. “They watch that too closely. To go from the east, we’d have to pass over Chinese airspace and that’s just as risky. From the south we’ve got the Himalayas blocking the way, and I don’t think any of us are crazy enough to try to go from the north. Not even me.” Dottie glanced up at her companions and smiled as if this were a very funny joke.
Peggy did not smile back, but Kay chuckled a little.
“The way in,” Dottie went on, “is through Turkey. The area is mountainous and difficult to patrol, but the locals know their way around I have some things prepared. It’ll be a long hike, but we can take the train from Tbilisi to Stalingrad…”
“Volgograd,” said Kay under her breath.
“… and from there, I’ll tell you where we’re going next,” said Dottie.
“Mm-hm,” said Peggy. It seemed straightforward enough, though Dottie was right – it would be a very long walk through some hostile terrain. “You said we’ll need that money you mentioned… where have you got that squirreled away?”
“Nevada,” said Dottie. “Joseph’s hanging on to it for me.”
The first Joseph Peggy thought of who might have anything to do with Dottie Underwood was Josef Stalin, but that could not possibly be right. “Who is Joseph?”
“Joseph Strieber.”
It took a moment for Peggy to remember who that was, and then it seemed almost as unlikely as Stalin – perhaps more so. “The Governor of Nevada?” she asked. “He’s the one who wants you caught! The mafia is breathing down his neck after you robbed the Toucan Hotel!”
“Plausible deniability,” said Dottie. “If he’s the one shouting that I need to be in prison, the mob won’t realize that he’s the one who let me into the Toucan at their grand opening. I was his date for the evening.” She smiled. “And now I can make him do anything I want.”
“So we’re going to Carson City,” said Kay.
Peggy thought she’d better make sure Governor Strieber didn’t get a look at her during this visit… she had enough problems right now without a desperate politician getting any leverage over her. “Then we need to catch up with Steve,” she added.
“Steve?” Dottie cocked her head and smiled. “We’re taking Captain America with us?”
“It’s his friend we’re rescuing,” said Peggy.
“Well, if you’d told me that from the beginning, I might have agreed to help without all the threats!” said Dottie, delighted. “He’s a dish, isn’t he?”
“So people say,” Peggy said. People who’d never met Steve, and didn’t realize that he was so much more than that. But she had another worry now, she realized… Dottie liked to know people’s weaknesses, and now she already knew what Peggy’s was.
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so uh, thoughts on eva’s morgan route and how it compares to her nate route (and... additional nate/eva/morgan thoughts...)
this is unedited and mostly me rambling so please excuse
it’s interesting to me how much more willing eva is to consider the possibility of something happening with nate as opposed to morgan, simply because he’s nice from the start and not interferring with her job (this is an important point for her) and someone who would be a Reasonable Dating Prospect, whereas morgan is doing her hot/cold thing and eva is very, very unimpressed
with nate it’s basically attraction/interest throughout all of book 1, but there’s a definite turning point when the supernatural reveal happens: before that, she was unwilling to pursue him because to her, he was just an agent in rebecca’s agency, so no matter how attractive he was it was still going to be too complicated. but after the reveal she figures she knows enough and he’s interested in her too, so... why not?? and then throughout book 2, it turns out he does things... differently. she’s not used to someone taking their time the way he does (all her relationships have been quick and shallow), and there’s a spark between them that makes her want to savor it. so she follows his lead, and is 100% willing to see where this goes.
with morgan... as i said, she’s unimpressed with her propositions. oh, morgan is attractive, for sure, there’s a physical draw there, but eva has a job to do, and she’s not interested in someone who goes from hostile to horny at the drop of a hat. this continues somewhat throughout book 2, with eva shutting down all of morgan’s advances, while at the same time warming up to her as friends?? enjoying the rare moments where she can have a conversation with her, where morgan shares things with her. so she starts to just ignore the sexual come-ons as just part of who morgan is and enjoying her company more and more, while at the same time being completely unaware of any feelings developing on her part. something IMPORTANT for this route: morgan catches feelings faster than eva. illustrated by this, when eva rejects morgan after she drives her home:
eva is being completely genuine and wondering if morgan will move on (and this doesn’t affect her at this point), while morgan is already... uncertain about what she’s feeling.
before meeting unit bravo, eva used to date a lot (it never went anywhere, but she always had fun with it)—after she starts working with them, she stops. in nate’s route, it’s obvious why, but in morgan’s, she just sort of... does. she doesn’t find enjoyment in it anymore. (and part of it is her slowly getting so involved in the supernatural world that she stops finding fulfillment in human things, and that’s the only part she wants to think about).
by book 3, eva enjoys morgan’s company, of course she’s aware morgan wants to get into her pants (and she’s attracted to her as well) but that’s something she’s learned to tune out because that’s all it is, right? and eva doesn’t really do fwb type relationships. so when the bakery scene comes along... eva is confused at the sting she feels, and she quickly brushes it off, figuring that’s just how morgan is, right?
NOW
nate/eva/morgan thoughts
morgan is eva’s bff in her nate route, and the progression is actually very similar—they always become friends first. (eva can’t really be with morgan if they don’t first get along—she’s uninterested in being fwb, and she isn’t really aware of any developing feelings either—the woman is 85% mind and hasn’t ever been in a serious relationship, cut her some slack. the only way it works out with nate it’s because nate leaves no doubt as to his romantic intentions). but if we consider the underlying physical attraction, and figure that could always be there...
as bff, morgan balances eva’s relationship with nate. eva and morgan get along in an unspoken way, and eva feels comfortable enough with morgan to be sharper, rougher—eva is action-oriented, logical, much more aligned with adam’s way of handling missions than nate’s. and she knows morgan will tell it like it is, will not coddle her and will value her skills for what they are, unlike nate, who wants to protect her always.
she loves nate, of course—he is her everything and the way she feels about him is something she hasn’t felt for anyone else, but then again, she has never been as close to anyone as she is with morgan, either. nate makes her feel loved, seen, makes her feel things she didn’t think possible and want to crack herself open to show herself to him—and morgan makes her feel understood in a quieter way, in a “i don’t need to explain this because you get it” way.
she’d always want it to be morgan who turns her, too—because morgan gets why it’s her choice (morgan has always stood up for her, to adam, to nate, defending her right to make her own choices). nate has too much baggage, too much attachment to humanity (that eva admires, cherishes, but doesn’t fully understand because she doesn’t have it) (she has lost all interest for her human life), but morgan gets it.
SO I’M JUST SAYING
THIS COULD WORK
#the wayhaven chronicles#oc: eva#n x detective x m#SORRY FOR THE ESSAY#LOTS OF THOUGHTS#second demo mentions but no outright spoilers?#nate sewell#twc morgan#twc detective
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Beyond The Reef [1]
Content: Soft Vore, G/T Vore, Unwilling Prey, Shark Mer Pred, Eventual Safe Vore Reveal
Word Count: 2230
Fandom: N/A; Original Content
A/N: An older piece, but I’m still fond of it!! I have a few more chapters already written, too. I promise it gets fluffier.
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Aless pressed himself flat against the rockbed, listening as the reef went quiet around him at the sight of two predators passing through. Neither of them seemed to notice, probably used to the attention, and were talking in low voices that still clearly travelled to all the smaller folk in the area, him included.
He watched in half-stunned awe as the giant mers passed his hiding spot, neither noticing his tiny body camouflaged against the plant life. What a chance encounter… He was suddenly glad he had decided to venture out alone again today, watching them glide along with an unassuming steadiness to their pace.
They continued their discussion as they moved, and despite, or maybe because of the danger, Aless darted after them, eavesdropping as he swam through concealing nooks and crannies.
The one currently talking was seemingly younger, with wild dark hair flowing around a face with bright eyes. He had olive skin with dark grey scales scattered in patches around his fins. His tail was a lighter blue-gray, tipped with black, marking him as a reef shark breed of mer. Unlike stories Aless had heard, there was no constant anger in his eyes, but rather, crinkles around the corners that looked an awful lot like smile lines.
At the moment however, he wore an expression of tentative concern as he frowned at his companion.
“...I don't know Dev, doesn't it seem kind of harsh? Maybe there's some other way to find one, no need to-”
“Skim,” the other mer cut him off, and Aless wondered at that too. The older and, apparently, leader of the two had similar dark hair, though much tamer, and his tail was the deep mottled grey of a tiger shark. “I understand your concern, but this is the way it's been done for ages. There’s no need to make waves, it’ll work out alright. It always does. You’ll understand when it happens. Trust me.” He offered the smaller a slight smile.
The other mer-- Skim, allegedly-- seemed to droop slightly as he sighed, returning a weak smile and seemingly finally resigned to whatever it was they were talking about. Aless tilted his head, wondering for only a moment or two, before becoming distracted by the familiar surroundings. This… was the route to Hali Reef that the two were taking.
Aless knew because he had just come from that very direction, hoping to avoid more harassment from the other teens his age. Nevi, at least, didn't try to draw attention to him, but it could only do so much when one’s been the whole village’s scapegoat for so long.
What would two giant mers be doing in such a small mountain reef? Aless moved faster, an uneasy pit in his stomach, old folk tales suddenly springing to mind. These were still predators, after all.
Soon, they came upon the opening into the underwater village, which looked uncomfortably recently abandoned. Aless could tell they hadn’t had much time to lock down and hide, and felt a little guilty for not immediately swimming ahead to warn them.
Though, if the giant mers hadn’t come through and he’d raised a false alarm... Well, he caught enough flack from the townsfolk already without ‘attention seeker’ being added to the list.
There was a tense pause, before Dev cleared his throat pointedly, much to Skim’s dismay.
“You mean I really have to--?” Dev gave him a quelling look, and he sighed uncomfortably again but turned to the nearest patch of seagrass and reached out with one hand, slowly picking through it. Aless’s sense of horror mounted as he spotted a flash of silver amidst the waving plants. The only one in the village with those distinct glinting silver scales… was Nevi.
Skim seemed to have spotted it as well, going by the way he was indecisively hovering his hand closer. Aless watched, his whole body tense with anxiety. In an instant, he saw as Nevi’s self-restraint broke, and she darted out of the plants and away like quicksilver.
Unfortunately, Skim was even faster, slamming his hands together over her so quickly it seemed like it had been only his reflexes that caught her. He seemed to feel the same way as he looked between the prison his cupped hands had made and the other giant mer, who was looking expectantly at him.
Hesitantly, he closed his hands together and used the position as leverage to hold the girl by pinching two fingers securely around Nevi’s muscled waist. She looked small compared to him, barely the size of his hand.
“Why isn’t anyone helping her,” Aless murmured to himself, though deep down he already knew. She was the strongest and second-fastest one in the entire village. If she couldn’t get free, nobody could save her.
Not without risking life and limb, with no chance of success. Aless reached for the carved dagger tied at his hip.
Nevi was thrashing in Skim’s hold, gills and frills flaring, lashing out with enough force to break something vital in a mer her size, but only making Skim take on an expression like a kicked guppy. He started to lift her closer to his face, and a dismayed note of alarm wailed in Aless’s mind. He was moving before he could even think twice, shooting across the open water as quickly as his fins would propel him.
He used his momentum to drive his small dagger into Skim's finger, hard enough to stick. Skim yelped at the unexpected pain and pulled his injured hand back to his chest, releasing Nevi. In the same motion, like clockwork, Aless was dragged along, the drag causing him to collide with the back of the hand he’d attacked.
Before he could reorient himself, Skim’s other hand weighed down on him, leaving him sandwiched between the two, just as trapped as Nevi had been.
“Aless!”
Unable to do anything about his position, he floundered for a moment, before managing to meet Nevi’s eyes. She had twisted to look at his predicament, caught in indecision, but there were two predators there and only one’s hands were occupied with him.
“Go!” He shouted, harsh enough a command that she jerked and darted away, still stuck in the fight or flight mindset. It was a good thing he was probably about to die because otherwise she would have kicked his ass later for yelling at her like that.
He got only a moment to watch her vanish back into the reef in a flash of silver before the warm skin around him moved, one hand moving down to grasp his tail between finger and thumb. As soon as his bottom half was securely snagged, he was pulled back to look at his captor. His orientation shifted as the hold tugged him from the bottom end, leaving him hanging upside down.
Despite the instinctual panic edging his mind, he didn't try to escape, common sense dismissing it as a fruitless effort. If nobody was brave enough to try and free Nevi, everyone’s darling, from Skim’s grip, then there was no way Aless, the local bastard, would be getting any semblance of help at all. Seeing as Nevi’s considerable strength hadn’t done anything for her, he wouldn't be able to make a getaway on his own, either.
Still, he refused to cower or beg, glaring at Skim as he was dangled upside down in front of him. The mer was nursing his injured thumb, pulling the tooth dagger out of his skin with his teeth and spitting it into the open water. Aless watched somewhat mournfully as it sank down to the ocean floor below. That had taken him ages to find and fix up into a proper weapon.
“At least it’s not deep...”
Looking back up, Aless automatically flailed as he was dragged by the tail to in front of the giant’s face, and he stared at the big features, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the tip of that lightly freckled nose. It was close enough that Skim went cross eyed trying to keep looking at him, defeating the whole purpose of closer scrutiny. Aless stubbornly crossed his arms to keep from pinwheeling them, ignoring the way his fluttering gills and fins gave away his fear despite his best efforts.
He expected Skim to pull back and send a desperate look to Dev yet again, but instead his expression was strangely dazed, his glowing irises near eclipsed by expanding pupils, gaze fixed on Aless with a strange intensity that sent a chill down his spine. He absently chewed on his bottom lip with sharp-looking teeth, and then slowly lifted Aless up above his head, looking up to keep him in view.
Aless was only kept in the dark about his intentions for a second or two, before Skim made them very clear by opening his mouth, displaying rows of triangular white teeth framing a fleshy gullet.
“Ah,” Aless said, softly.
At least Nevi wasn't in his place. At least they’d all know what happened to him. At least nobody would miss him too much. His chest jolted up in hiccups as his breathing started to speed up unsteadily.
As if in spite of its inevitable end, his heartbeat was pounding a frighteningly quick tempo as he was lowered into the gaping maw, the prehensile tongue stretching out to receive him. He numbly watched as his head passed under the stacked rows of teeth, aligned neatly to tear prey apart. The rough muscle at his back was the only thing cushioning him from being skewered on the lower teeth.
Abruptly, his surroundings went dark, Skim’s lips sealed around his torso cutting out all the outside light. His hands rose to push against the hard palate above him automatically, as if he could somehow keep the mouth from closing further. He felt the pressure from the fingers holding his tail vanish, apparently satisfied with his current level of immobility. He didn't try to move, too aware of the fangs barely scraping his stomach like a threat.
The seconds stretched, and Aless was certain that any moment, the jaws would snap shut on his spine, interlocking and slicing him clean in half. The blood would be a mess. Distantly, he hoped that none of the children in the reef were watching.
His grim predictions were interrupted by a pulling sensation on his skin, and he yelped as more of him was suddenly suctioned into the dark, enclosed space. More than ever, Aless could feel the difference between the warm, cloying atmosphere in the giant mouth and the cool ocean water brushing past his tail fin, which was still peeking out between Skim’s lips, twitching weakly.
The top of his head gently bumped into something solid, and when he reached out with one hand to investigate, the smooth flesh of the throat rippled under his touch. He jerked away, seized by a primal urge to get out get out get out get out-- but at his squirming, the tongue beneath him rose up and pinned him against the ridged roof of the mouth, knocking the wind out of him.
He was stunned for a moment, splayed out with his arms flung above his head. Then, there was another pull, an uncanny tug on his whole body accompanied by a thick sound, and his arms were suddenly surrounded on all sides by the same smooth, slippery muscle. He drew in breath to yell, terrified, and with the sound of another heavy swallow, found his entire head and chest stuck in the same constricting tube. Even as he tried to wriggle free, he could feel the rough tongue on the scales of his tail, tasting him, and he shuddered, squirming as the esophagus contracted and pulled in more of him.
He only had a moment to think ‘I can't breathe’ before the final thick swallow resounded in his ears, peristalsis locking him in place and tugging him downwards. His smooth fish half went down easier, one gulp enough to tug the whole thing down, fins and all. Locked completely in the slick tube with barely enough room to twitch, Aless focused on trying to bring in oxygen from the meager water trapped with him. Everything pulsed around him, loud and overwhelming.
Just as the edges of his vision began to darken, his hands were released from the complete peristalsis, and the rest of him soon followed, sliding into a slick pouch full of warm seawater, contracting and relaxing rhythmically at his arrival. It was larger than where he’d been before, but filled quickly, his tail coiling and twisting in the meager space.
After gasping in enough air to function, Aless looked around at the pitch dark space with growing despair, and began to run his hands along the stomach walls, desperately searching for some kind of exit. He found only smooth flesh under his fingers, and a rumbling purr started up above him, making him yank his hands away angrily. That giant bastard was enjoying this.
As quickly as his temper had flared up, it died away, and he slumped against the soft folds of flesh around him. Of course Skim was enjoying this. In every way, he’d acted as the predator that shark mers were rumored to be.
Aless was nothing more than a meal now, tucked out of sight and out of mind.
#Soft Vore#Safe Vore#Mermaid Vore#Extreme Cuddling#G/T Vore#Unwilling#Mermaid#Vore Writing#Vore Story#Original Characters#Beyond The Reef#Peach Writes#OC: Skim#OC: Aless#OC: Nevi#What sharp teeth queue have!
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Hello! Nhthcth brainworms have slowly started taking over my mind ever since I read it and I’d like to inform you that your brain is huge and sexy. With that established, I’d love to hear your opinions and thoughts on tma canon!! Favourite episode, character hcs, what entity you’re most aligned with, most terrifying entity, etc.
Hi!
God, I love all of TMA so much. My favorite episode is definitely MAG 165: Revolutions. I’ve listened to it probably ten times by now. The Jane Prentiss statement is a close second. They both just really lean into some really evocative, poetic language and I go feral for it every time.
Okay, so like, the thing is. I know what entity I would be most aligned with. And I’ve always hated it but it’s super true. I would absolutely be Corruption-aligned. I have like, the exact opposite of trypophobia. I love all of those like, weird niche medical gross out videos on Youtube. I would stumble on some Corruption stronghold and I would just stare in mindless fascination and my soul would be yoinked by the evil germ god. Like I’m deeply aware of the dumb way my soul would get Snatched.
Absolutely the Web for the most terrifying entity. They’re just so insidious and nigh-impossible to beat, and the thought of losing control like that? Terrifying. They also have the physical threat component down of like, being a giant spider who will consume you. They exist in this weird intersection of mental and physical horror and it’s a terrifying time.
Character head canons:
1) My personal headcanon about Season 2 Jon is that his paranoia was both a product and a cause of his own Becoming. I have no idea how much of this is canon? Because I think that the only thing that was explicitly stated as the cause of his paranoia was Not!Sasha, but also it’s been a hot minute since I listened to Season 2/3. I know Jon explicitly states that the paranoia was because of Not!Sasha in the Guest for Mr. Spider Statement, but I can’t remember at all if it was commented on further.
The thing is, the explicit fear of being watched/paranoia generally is the Eye, not the Stranger. A good deal of it would come from Jon’s spooky spider senses constantly tingling as something not being right (that being the Not!Them), but it would be the Eye itself Feeding on that Fear. And the thing is, Jon’s choice in response to that is to obsessively watch those around him and inspire paranoia in them, Feeding the Eye even further. So I personally think that stalking the rest of the Archives and actually Feeding the Eye in that way did more to make him Become than reading the Statements did.
The other big thing for me is just that the process of Becoming has always seemed so painful to me, specifically in a manner that Feeds the Entity trying to claim them. Oliver spent the beginning of his visions trying to make sense of them and even prevent them, in the case of his father and the statement giver who saw the Grifter’s Bone concert and even Gertrude, and then he just... stops. He settles into the visions and his role with the End with a sort of inevitability that’s just very End. How afraid was he, when he started to figure out that there was nothing he could do to change what was happening? How much did the fear of being unable to change the future--for others and for himself--Feed the End with his own Fear? And then his Becoming really happens when he chooses to lean into the future, and personally bring all of the boat to their ends. We see that with most of the Avatars--Jane had an entire statement about Corruption infesting her and how afraid it made her, Jude had that whole burnout empty-life thing going before she leaned into it, Annabelle feared the Web her whole life before Becoming. Becoming seems to Feed on the soon-to-be-avatar first and really happens when they lean into it and inspire the fear in other people, and so for me, I always thought that the paranoia was specifically because of the Eye feeding on him, exacerbated by Not!Sasha, and that choosing to stalk the rest was what pushed him over the edge into properly Becoming.
2) I know the like, fandom consensus was that Jon and Georgie had a really long and involved relationship that ended poorly, but I like to think that their relationship was really short-lived. They went on like, maybe three dates, emphasis on maybe. One of them was just when they ran into each other at a Tesco Express, felt weird shopping separately now that they knew the other was here, awkwardly gathered their things together and called it a date. Georgie said “I think we should stop dating” and Jon said “yeah that’s fair” and then they just hung out as friends afterwards and got really close that way. Relationship ended because they just sort of ended up in different jobs and both got busy and then like, once a certain amount of time passed, it just became weird to ring up the other when you’ve been ignoring them for like, eight months. They always call each other their ex though because they’re both assholes who think it’s funny to bring their blind date home and be like “this is my ex, we’re flatmates.”
3) I am a “The Mechs Were Jon’s University Band” Truther
4) I like to think that Tim and Jon became friends in Research because Jon had poor people skills and a bad attitude, and Tim was riding off losing Danny and didn’t want to be near people, and someone told Tim on his first day that if he wanted a good conversationalist for a desk partner, he should avoid the empty one by Jonathan Sims like it was covered in thorns and dipped in shit. He plopped his stuff down not five minutes later, and the rest was history. Jon was safe, at first, because he was so seemingly different from Danny that Tim felt more comfortable leaning into a friendship. He was funny in an asshole sort of way, and dressed like a librarian, and was a total workaholic, and it was safe to find comfort in Jon because Jon never reminded him of Danny. But then he figured out Jon’s reckless streak, and his total disregard for the law, and his weird skill at B&E, and he realized Jon would have gotten along with Danny like a house on fire. Jon sort of became a pseudo little brother for him after that, and one of the reasons why Jon’s betrayal hurt so much was because Tim had lost one brother already and would have let Prentiss kill him to protect his second, and Jon still stalked him.
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Perfectly Aligned
(Banner art by @sncinder, who is also my wonderful beta and sounding board for this fic. Go check out the full piece on her Tumblr or Instagram 💕)
A/N: Elain Archeron is struggling to adjust to her new life as a High Fae. Luckily for her, she’s about to become friends with a mysterious male and through him discover untapped powers and healing. This is Elain and Azriel’s story starting in ACOWAR and extending beyond where the series left off.
There are canonical scenes included in this fic where much of the dialogue and the general plot of those scenes belong to Sarah J. Maas.
“I have been a little off balance since the day I met you. This is because I had never known what it is like to be perfectly aligned.”
- Courtney Peppernell
Elriel fluff, angst, slow burn
Word count: 3455
AO3
Thank you so much for beta reading, @sncinder! 😘
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20| Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25
Part 26
The next few days went by in a blur for Elain. She’d been doing a lot of thinking about her life, and she wasn’t sure where she stood.
She just wished more than anything that she could be spirited back to the townhouse garden. She missed the flowers and the peace she felt whenever she was around them.
Putting on Graysen’s ring again on the night of the meeting had been a mistake. She had woken up that morning and donned it out of habit, and then had decided to leave it on.
Perhaps Elain had wanted to dare him to approach her, to have realized that he made a mistake and that fighting in this war had changed his viewpoints.
Would it really reverse all of the hurt she’d felt from his words and actions? Not really. But there was just something inside her which wanted to see the good in people and to be able to let these hurts go. And it also would have lifted some of the ache of feeling so pathetically unwanted.
Elain had lost so much in her short life so far that she wasn’t sure how to just let things go. And when Graysen hadn’t even looked at her, she’d felt ashamed of the iron pressing coldly to her skin.
She had watched him go, longingly perhaps, but she knew that she was much more upset about the fact that this was the final time she’d be in these lands. At least in the near future.
She didn’t want to step foot in the ruins of this house again. She’d taken a look around but found nothing of significance that she wanted to take with her.
Nesta had spied the small carving lying on the mantle, apparently overlooked by their ransackers, and Elain hadn’t argued when her sister had pocketed it for herself.
She secretly wished it was hers, but Nesta had been through more than Elain could imagine. So she’d let go of this trinket, this last possession of her father’s to offer her sister some closure.
The ring and Siphon were now tucked at the bottom of her travel sack, amongst her discarded clothing, and Elain had never felt freer.
She studiously avoided Lucien, though the male seemed to have keyed in on that, and after the first full day in camp, she found that he mercifully wasn’t around.
While the others were busy negotiating treaties, she found herself wandering, sitting on the edge of a stream for hours on end, going to a nearby meadow to contemplate.
She had frustratingly gotten nowhere with her internal turmoil.
She kept inviting Nesta along, to do something other than lie in her bed, when she wasn’t dragged off as meetings to be an emissary, but Nesta had completely shut down.
Elain had even tried talking about how they could make a memorial to remember their father by in Velaris, but Nesta simply … didn’t care.
She wasn’t really speaking with Elain, with anyone at all. And when she was, it was usually to tell Elain to stop. Just stop. She didn’t want to hear it.
There was no crying, just emptiness. A complete disregard for what was going on around her.
Elain had even worked up the courage to ask Cassian what it was about. He just grunted, looking rather distraught, and Elain could tell that he didn’t know either. And it was killing him just as much inside.
Whatever this thing between them had been, whatever had compelled them to be willing to die for each other, Nesta had decided not to acknowledge it anymore.
Elain found herself wanting to talk to Az but lacking anything of substance to talk about. He’d been strangely silent since the other night, and she supposed it was for the best.
This alone time would be best for her. She’d always found herself more easily in the silences than around others.
She just needed to retreat into her shell a bit. She thought about using the shadows to travel somewhere if only for an hour—she knew that the second she went back to Velaris, she’d probably go back to her life cooped up in the house—but she could think of nowhere to visit.
The world was in disarray right now, and there would be no hospitality waiting for her, only a tired people working to rebuild their homes wherever she landed.
So she’d bide her time, learning how to be truly Fae before setting off on her own. She’d take advantage of the hospitality her sister was offering her until it was time to set off on her own.
Elain only hoped that would be sooner rather than later. But she had an eternity to look forward to.
She could move throughout Prythian if she wished, move over to the continent if she dared. And if she regretted the decision, she’d always have a home in the Night Court to return to, family and friends who she really should be trying to bond with more on a regular basis.
She realized that she hadn’t really talked to Nuala and Cerridwen since the incident with Graysen.
They had fallen by the wayside, casualties of the aftermath of that explosive conversation, and though she lived under Feyre’s roof, she hadn’t made much of an effort to engage with her sister, content to watch from the sidelines.
Well she would be content no longer. She would lean on them as much as they would allow as she adjusted to this new normal.
And it would feel normal. Elain would make it so.
Three exhausting days of bargaining and diplomacy later, they dismantled the war camp.
The Inner Circle stuck around with the other High Lords’ parties as the troops were winnowed home, until all which remained was for Rhys to throw their personal belongings in that pocket between realms and spirit them home.
Good riddance. It wasn’t the first war he’d cleaned up, and it may not be the last, but Azriel would give more of himself to make sure it didn’t happen again.
He had already planned some trips to meet with dignitaries in the coming month.
Everyone would travel home to settle down in their own courts, but peace would wait for no one, and spymasters, generals, and high-ranking officials alike would be working tirelessly after the small break they were giving themselves to ensure it went as smoothly as possible.
Starting with their summit in Day in a week’s time.
It was still one of the most neutral courts, so there was little relative to fear from traveling there. At least not enough to make everyone so worn down with the proceedings of the past few days want to question the location. They’d be alternating courts as the year went on anyway, so he couldn’t see how it really mattered where they started.
After saying goodbye to the other lords and exchanging formalities, Rhys winnowed the lot of them into the townhouse foyer.
Peaceful. It was so peaceful here. Somehow, there were still children laughing in the streets, despite the fact that many of their fathers had gone off into battle. It was strange how … untouched, unmarred Velaris was in the wake of the catastrophic battle which had just taken place.
But it was here that they all would heal. Slowly, but time would erase these wounds as they rebuilt their court.
“I supposed I shall have to eat real food now,” Amren muttered as they touched down.
What had she been doing these past few days? Drinking blood to see if it would still fuel her? Refusing to eat to figure out how this High Fae body functioned?
He guessed that she was used to go days on end without blood before, so perhaps the thought of eating hadn’t occurred to her before now, though her stomach must be protesting.
“A monumental sacrifice,” Cassian jested.
She flipped him off, but she didn’t have enough fire in her to truly snap back at him as she took in his wings, once again heavily bandaged and splinted—as if he just couldn’t stay away from trouble, where they were concerned, lately.
One way or another, they’d been injured—he’d been gravely injured—too many times in this war, over the past couple of months.
And then Amren’s gaze hit Nesta, whom Az realized none of them had really seen for the past few days. Elain had still been sleeping in the same tent as her and hadn’t reported anything particularly wrong, but they’d all noticed the fact that Elain tried not to spend much time in that tent and that Nesta’s food trays kept being sent back untouched.
She had already been thin, but a gauntness had crept over her face, and Az knew that, if left unchecked, she may end up as bad off as Feyre and Elain had been.
“I’m surprised you didn’t take the king’s head back to have stuffed and hung on your wall,” Amren said to Nesta.
Nesta’s dull eyes shot toward Amren, but she made no move to bite back, to strike with that infamous tongue of hers.
“Some would consider that joke to be in bad taste, Amren,” Mor chided.
“I saved your asses. I’m entitled to say what I want.” Amren didn’t even spare a glance back at the group as she prowled out of the house, likely to go struggle in silence as she adjusted to her new body in her apartment.
“The new Amren is even crankier than the old one,” Elain murmured in a hushed voice, as if embarrassed that no one else would find it funny.
Az couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face as he burst out laughing. For the first true time in weeks. The others joined along, Elain even grinning at how well the joke had gone over.
She was shining. She was a light in this new world, and he was so incredibly happy that she was able to find it within herself to even laugh after everything she’d been through. Even if it had seemed rocky between them since the battle ended.
He supposed it was to be expected that times were changing and so were relationships. He’d still try to be a good friend to her, but he got it. He really did. That she might begin to branch out and try to find herself, lean on others.
She would find her own healing, and he would find his.
Nesta remained on the outskirts, the only one not overtaken by the joy of the moment, but Azriel couldn’t bring himself to care. Not right now, when celebrating and being present with his family was so important.
“Come on.” Mor slung a carefree arm around his shoulders, as Az breathed in her heady citrus and cinnamon scent while she gingerly hooked the other around Cassian. “We need a drink.”
Indeed.
“We’re opening the fancy bottles,” Cassian yelled as the trio limped their way into the sitting room.
“Save a bit for me, at least,” Rhys countered, though Az knew he didn’t give a care in the world.
He had his life, his mate. Rhys wouldn’t truly be wanting for anything in the near future.
When they reached the sitting room, Cass broke off, on a mission to dig through Rhys’s liquor cabinet while Mor went straight to fetch glasses for everyone.
He knew he should be helping, but there was nothing else to busy his hands, and he was getting the world’s largest tension headache from the release of adrenaline.
For the past few days, he’d just been chugging along, letting the needs of others guide him, and this was the first time he’d allowed himself to just … stop.
Even for a few minutes. And now the weight of the exhaustion, the realization of what was to come as he didn’t get to settle back into his life like the others but had to go and help with unifying the territories threatened to drag him under like a lead weight.
He raised one hand to his head, rubbing at his temples, as the clinking of glass on glass grated against him.
Feyre and Elain entered the room, Nesta apparently having decided she was not going to attend their little celebration, and for the first time since he’d met her, there was a glimmer of hope and life in Elain’s eyes.
Az hadn’t been paying attention to what had been said after his exit, but whatever Feyre and Elain had discussed, it had made her cheerful.
“What now?” Elain asked no one in particular, as if she were dreaming of her own future in that head of hers.
A broad grin spread across her face, gorgeous and free, so lovely and comforting that Az felt his shadows stir in response. Where they’d been swirling around him, they stilled, fading from view, a few even running over to purr in her presence.
“I would like to build a garden. After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.”
Az’s mouth parted in awe at Elain already being able to plan for such beauty in the world. That she was willing to try to make it a better place, in the best way she knew how.
“Yes—I think it does.” Feyre’s eyes seemed like they were about to brim over with tears as she gave her sister a kiss on the cheek.
What now for you? With the others now cracking open the bottles of whiskey, Elain had seated herself on one of the plush sitting room chairs and was now glancing shyly at Az.
I drew the short stick. After this week, I’ll be traveling around Prythian and the human lands as we work to unify, gathering intel. It’s not going to be easy, but somebody needs to do it. And I already need to keep tabs on everyone to make sure nobody decides to take advantage of this fragile state we’re in.
I see. How long will you be gone?
As long as it takes. Peace is never just as simple as winning a war.
Don’t you need a break?
Not everyone can have the luxury of that. He had to admit that his own words were getting a little clipped right now. He knocked back what was left in his glass.
Oh. Okay. She seemed on edge now, unsure of what to say to him. He really should stop being so cold with her, though he was having trouble controlling his bitterness as he thought about his role for the next few months. He wished more than anything that he could stay here. Will you still be able to train me?
I won’t be around very often, so I would recommend beginning to practice on your own. You’re doing great, and I’m sure that if you find yourself in need of a tutor while I’m gone, someone will be able to assist you. And we can always pick up when I return.
Whenever that is.
Whenever that is, he echoed. He took in her slight frown. Cheer up. It won’t be forever, though I am rather glad to hear that you’re going to miss me, he smirked.
Who said anything about that? Her cheeks were blushing now, though.
I think it was rather obvious, El. Now, come on, we should be over there—he nodded toward the hearth where the others were gathered—celebrating. We did just win a war after all.
And so the two of them walked over to where their family were clinking glasses together in a toast to their victory. The sheer disbelief of the outcome still seeming to be a bit of a shock. It had been days since the final battle, but this was the first time they’d truly been able to be themselves, relax just a fraction, since that dreadful day.
Already on her second glass somehow, Mor was rosy-cheeked and cracking jokes about the other High Lords, letting off some much-needed steam.
Az couldn’t help himself from laughing along with the others as Mor’s high-pitched cackle rose above all the rest. She draped an arm around Elain, offering the middle Archeron sister a glass of her favorite vintage.
Elain looked too embarrassed to turn it down, and they all laughed a bit as she took a tiny sip, cringing at the burn of the liquor as it went down.
Mother above, it was adorable, and Az could watch this for hours. His friends, laughing and joking like old times. Before Rhys had been captured. Before Hybern had declared war. Before their High Lord had sacrificed himself because he believed that building a better world was worth it, even if he wasn’t in it.
A High Lord who had supposedly slipped away to the restroom but still hadn’t returned. Az sent a scout looking for him, only to find that he was lingering in the kitchen, all by his lonesome, staring out the window at the garden.
Not a terrible pastime, but he should’ve been the head of the party.
Az knew that what had happened had hit home and Rhys, but he also knew how much love and support could do to heal the emotional wounds of war.
Our brother needs us, he said to Cassian, indicating with his chin that Rhys was in the kitchen when Cass caught his eye.
Cass nodded, and Az took the decanter, pouring out another glass to bring with them. An offering.
They sauntered into the kitchen, Cassian drawling, “You coming to drink, or are you just going to stare at the flowers all day?” as they crossed the threshold.
Rhys spun, trying his best to look casual, but his hands were in his pockets. He’d been a split second too late in hiding the slight frown of concentration he’d had on before attempting to greet them with a smile.
Az summoned his power, sending the glass across the room into one of Rhys’s hands, removed from the pocket just to catch the liquor.
“Sneaking up on your High Lord is ill-advised,” he replied. But still, he drank deeply, taking a large swig, draining half the glass in one go. He needed this distraction. Needed them to pull him out of this state.
“It’s good to keep you on edge in your old age,” Cassian quipped as he took a sip, leaning lazily against the doorway. “Why are you hiding in here?”
Az’s head whirled.
Wow, way to ease into it, Cass.
The prick knew he was being miserable. He deserved me cutting to the chase.
Rhys didn’t seem offended though. He just chuckled as he took another sip, eyes lighting up a bit in surprise. “You really did open the fancy bottles.”
A deflection if Az had ever heard one.
A silence crept over them, broken only by the sound of the females in the other room all erupting into laughter. Rhys’s head snapped to attention at the noise, and by the time his brother had schooled his gaze and glanced back at him, Az knew.
That Rhys was expecting this to be taken away from him at any second. That there was still that seed of doubt in his mind that this had actually happened. That any of this peace was real, was earned.
“It’s real,” Az murmured.
Rhys’s eyes began to tear up, but he slowly walked over to where Az and Cass were waiting for him in the doorway.
“Let’s not do this again for another five hundred years.” His voice was hoarse with trying to keep his emotions at bay as he clinked their glasses together.
Az couldn’t help the tentative smile at that, his brother coming back to them, giving in and agreeing to join in the festivities in his own way.
“And what are we going to do until then?” Cassian lifted an inquisitive brow full of mischief.
“Hey, bat boys! Stop comparing wingspans in there and bring us food. We’re starving!” Mor yelled from the sitting room amongst a host of giggles from Feyre and Elain. “And it better be impressive. With extra bread.”
A tipsy Feyre and Elain sounded like they were in stitches and would definitely all be in need of that bread to soak up a bit of the alcohol.
Az rolled his eyes. Leave it to Mor to break the tension so perfectly in her own ridiculous way.
At the sound of his mate’s laugh though, Rhys broke out into a genuine smile for the first time today.
“Until then,” he said, throwing his arms around Az and Cass’s shoulders, as they headed back into the sitting room, “Until then, we enjoy every heartbeat of it.”
A/N: Who’s ready for ACOFAS?! Glorious Solstice presents and shadow potatoes are imminent! 💙🥔🦇🌺
Tagging these lovelies: @rosehallshadowsinger @montherox @sncinder @mikaylamee @maastrash @illyrian-bookworm @queen-archeron @librarian-of-orynth @abillionlittlepieces @fucking-winchester-trash @hellas-himself @acourtofabsandillyrians @julesherondalex @wolffrising @cassianpeia @mehlisssa @queenofillea1 @laurannabookstuffsblog @dreaming-of-bohemian-nights @propshophannah @dreamerforever-5 @icvechu @arwenbk3 @lokis-wifey1212 @shimmerglimmerandsparkle @actuallyfreely @fireheart-of-your-dreams @marvelmyass @actuallyacotartrash @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @tswaney17 @beelezebub @devilsadvocate15 @sailorainbow99 @azriels-forgotten-shadow @faequeenaelin @courtofdreamsandterrasen @tragically-broken @bibliobug @vicisbookishblog @writer-reader-traveller @the-regal-warrior @faelightsstarfall @courtneyehk @queen-of-wings-and-fire @thebriarpost @justtanerd @court-of-fuck-me-daddy @hope-unswervingly @illyriangarbage @sleeping-and-books @chloeness-blog @azrielismycinnamonrollprimary @jmbhorses @erinmau @feysand-rowaelin-worshiper @kylizzles @booksatteatime @maficorral @trashpandablr @loysydark @to-the-stars-who-wish @bookishblood @red-dragon-princess-blog @illyrianbeauty @insufrableknowitall @queenofbumblebees @highqueenofelfhame @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @nuclearplanets @aquariarose @nightcourtstarlight @acer6437 @mikalya12 @mrspettyferr @sydney-marlis
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Feliciano and the King of Hearts
Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.
Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64 I Chapter 65
I edited this chapter in one sitting because I felt so bad I hadn’t posted anything for so long…and not writing at all the past two weeks with several things going on. Finally managed some time though! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 66
“It’s very clear, your majesty. You are bearing.” It was only obvious, but Feliciano had been hoping that he wouldn’t hear those words, Kandake still thoroughly examining the two jewels in his hand. “And you are to bring twins. Right now, I cannot tell the genders, but in three months time it shall be possible.” She kept herself well, elegant and strong, as if she was giving the news to any happy expecting parent at any other stable time. Feliciano couldn’t keep that, he fell, he whimpered, tears decorated him well, choking and reddening him more into a mess in Kandake’s vision.
“Your majesty…I don’t know what I should tell you,” she was still as composed, afraid that her nearing, her touch, could only crumble him more.
“I-I don’t know what I want to hear right now,” he managed to say between sobs.
Against whatever commands to keep herself apart, to let him deal with the news as he wished, she leaned and brought for once comforting hands, bringing him to her, to release whatever emotions needed to be shown, or even worded.
“Feliciano…this is something to celebrate. You are to bring forth heirs, two children as Augusta had done. I’m sure the kingdom will feast and be with higher spirits,” she tried to elate.
“How could I? This is the worst possible moment!” He gripped harsher on her dress, pulling her more to him, having to lay on the ground along with him. “There is a war coming, a horrible war…Ludwig, I and the rest of the Kings, Queens and Jacks are risking so much. I’m not sure if we’ll all survive, if everything will work. No matter what happens, I’m sure there will be devastation and horrors… that is not the world I want to bring my children into. This is not how I planned to start a big family.”
“You have from eight to ten months for the children to come.”
“And what could happen from here to then? What if something happens to me? What if the alignment does something to them? I don’t know in what kind of state I can bring them into. Khaos could use them to his advantage. It’s another worry, it’s my children I have to look to now, that I have to protect this world for and what if I can’t, what if I can’t!” He filled well the room in misery, Kandake feeling ashamed that she could only but soothe a hand against his back.
“It is but feelings to add, it is yet another thing to fight for. You are a powerful being, Feliciano. I doubt you would let anything happen to your children. I know you will protect them well, and if even if you are bearing during this process, I don’t believe it will hinder much of what you are to do or what you can do.” She now spread her fingers through his hair, just the spot to slowly calm, for his shaking to lessen and for the sobs to become more like whispers. “They, along with an entire world, will look up to you and they can serve you as more leverage for victory. Don’t let this stop you from believing in a future, let it remind you of the world you want to fight and create for them. I’m sure you will be capable.”
Even if reddened and still drowning in tears, bright brown eyes showed themselves once again to the room, a shine of belief in this sudden storm.
“I know it’s difficult, but you have to try and be strong. You have to keep your head up.”
Feliciano sat up, letting the words work their caress. “…this is all so difficult…”
“You are Queen, it is never to be a simple task.”
“Indeed…” at least by now the red had smoothened, the tears had dwindled, and his breath had even.
Yes, being Queen was an unrest of occurrences that he always had to deal with at first hand. This was but another, one of highly importance that depended heavily well on him. At least…
“…you have the decision. It is in your power,” Kandake reminded and it made Feliciano react and decree.
Even in his turmoil, he stood and headed to one of the drawers, rummaging.
“What are you going to do?” Kandake stood, hoping to understand.
“Hide it.”
“Hide that you are bearing?” Kandake was indignant. It was such a big thing, large enough to shaken all the kingdoms, and Feliciano thought of just…containing it.
“Yes! Please, I beg of you, Kandake, don’t tell absolutely anyone about this until I deem it safe.” He managed to find some old white ribbons.
“You might be risking that safety if you hide it.”
“No, I’m only trying to protect us, as well as these children by doing so. If we were to tell anyone, word would easily spread and with Khaos’s spies about, I’m sure he would find out and threaten them specifically knowing they are heirs and thinking me to be weaker because of this.”
Kandake sighed, but agreed. “Are you at least going to tell Ludwig?”
The silence Feliciano took as he wrapped the ribbon against the jewels and growing symbols made Kandake fret.
“No…” she could already tell.
“There’s a lot of things on his mind right now, I can’t add this to it.”
“It’s his children as well. He could get excited, he could help you.”
“Or he could panic, worsen…even lock me down in the castle…that’s what Romulus did…”
“He holds Romulus’s soul, but it does not mean he will do things exactly as he had done. You’re not entirely sure.”
“I rather not see how. He will just have to remain unknown to it like the rest.”
It hurt, it pained, as if the very new jewels were causing it. He still caressed them sweetly through the bandage, the first show of love and dear acceptance.
They were to have heirs…two heirs! Oh, he knew that in other circumstances they would have jumped, embraced, kissed, announced with sheer joy to the whole kingdom.
He sighed…perhaps…if this would one day be over, that celebration could come, but for now, Feliciano had to settle with the idea by himself.
“…how could I let this happen?”
“Weren’t you wearing the red collar?”
“At the beginning…but then it was so wonderful we…must have forgotten at some point about it…” he slumped, blamed and with the new weigh looking well on his shoulders.
Kandake gave a small chuckle, “it truly couldn’t be avoided.”
They remained in the silenced room for minutes on, Kandake wanting to provide any other comfort she could, while Feliciano was hesitant to even leave, knowing he had to begin lies and drive away questions and curiosities…in ways that he was still thinking over on how to do.
For the night, even the next day, Feliciano avoided Ludwig, still thinking excuses, plotting, not sure which of the many could work. He was so terrified that he could tell, that he could see pass the ribbons, that vines could grow to places that were visible. There were still other jewels that were to appear, and he was fearful that they could show before their expected time. He shivered at anyone passing, his greets weak and showing well his tremors, even as he tried to hide it all with his smile. Hoping for some time to relax from questioning eyes falling down on his bandaged hands, he tried to catch a breath in his own room, perhaps take a nap before heading down to dinner.
“Feliciano!” He found his beloved shouting at him instead, hurriedly coming to him with deep worry, taking his arms, eyeing him completely. “Where did you go last night? You never came back to the ball, not even our room! I was desperately looking for you.”
Feliciano was already petrified, not a word to spare or a movement to speak. “I-I-I…” nothing, none of the millions of excuses he had concocted arose to save him, showing a fear that only made Ludwig fret the more.
“What happened? Are you all right?” Ludwig pulled him closer, then noticing the bandages. “Why-”
“I fell!” Feliciano pulled them back before he could stare longer. “I…fell in the cellar and…I broke the bottle I was supposed to bring and well…my hands fell on the pieces,” he laughed sheepishly as he showed the wrapping. “Kandake was near and she helped me to recover and she…suggested I stayed with her to really heal and well…I was embarrassed to tell you what happened and I didn’t…want to disappoint you coming without the bottle.”
Ludwig sighed, his hold now relaxed, but still keeping him. “I really do not mind, Feliciano. I just wanted to know you were okay.” He pulled him to his chest and for once Feliciano could be smoothened, to forget about all kinds of worries and focus on this protective softness, this energy and this lull that kept him with a deep smile.
Ludwig sighed, “just…next time, please send a messenger to let me know what’s going on at least. I’m panicking a lot lately and I don’t want to add more troubles.” He turned unknowing to yet another, to Feliciano frowning and greying, keeping his hands together on his back as if to keep it even more hidden.
“Yeah…” he answered, still standing in his place unsure now on what to do.
Ludwig went back to his scrolls and books, surely on infantry and numbers, in a comfortable corner of the room, surely to be well focused and concentrated. He took his pen, a chart and was about to scribble away, until he noticed that Feliciano was still standing in the same place.
“Feliciano…are you sure you’re all right?” He wouldn’t be able to work if Feliciano didn’t show himself well.
“Uh…yes, yes, I’m fine…it, just hurts a little bit still,” he smiled and began to come close.
“Hm…how about some rest? I’ll be here and I’ll try not to make too much noise either.”
“It’s okay.” Feliciano took siting right next to Ludwig, laying to him, comfortable, finally content. Ludwig smiled at the beauty and managed to continue his work between, being careful to not make movements that could startle his husband.
Feliciano let himself rest on that build, trying to forgot, trying to ignore the coming troubles and that he was carrying the future heirs of their families.
Days went on, the alignment but a matter of weeks away. The preparations became more straining, soldiers shouting well into the late night, wizards coating these dark nights in their powerful magic, even the very royals who were now beginning to be allowed to showcase all they could perform. Feliciano had one day managed to create a shield around all the limits of Berlin, it was beautiful, incrusted even with design as Feliciano refused to leave it so plain. It was strong enough to withstand all kinds of cannon fires and even Ludwig’s best dark spell. Feliciano hoped it could well work for whatever the war concurred.
The days, despite how some of them were full of sun and blue skies, still felt darkened and evil, the city becoming more quite to the point that it had Feliciano wondering if there were even people inhabiting those splendorous buildings and towers, still shinning beautifully. He wished he could paint it all now, he wished all he could do was sketch, line, try out those pastels, watercolor…maybe even make a new fresco somewhere in the castle, but even now, sitting at one of the many large balconies of the castle, he was supposed to be working on some plans Ivan and him had concerning the first releases of Khaos from the confinement. It pained that he hadn’t been able to create something upon a surface the last weeks, it hurt that he couldn’t go out into the city, that he was spending less and less time with Ludwig, that he…
He looked down to the bandaged still well wrapped around him, Pookie taking rest on his shoulder, surely protecting what was hidden.
It hadn’t grown much luckily, only a couple of leaves to decorate the vines that grew, enough to only keep the hands covered. And that was another thing that hurt…that he still had to keep it secret, that he couldn’t do anything to prepare for the coming twins as it will arise suspicion, no matter how truly excited he was to begin decorating a room, getting presents, thinking names and plans as to their future daily care. He would daydream beautiful reactions from Ludwig…but have nightmares of Ludwig feeling betrayed and lied. It was more tears to his agitations.
“Your majesty,” Kandake entered, smooth, silent and careful, taking a watchful sitting on the chair beside him, trying to find what exactly Feliciano could be staring into in the scape of Berlin.
“May I see?” She talked about the marks, Feliciano nodding and unraveling, showing only the usual. Kandake still took her inspection, smiling and then letting Feliciano quickly put it back before any other could notice about the halls.
“It still looks like they will be healthy.” Wonderful news, but Feliciano couldn’t find to show it, only humming, the only joy being the soothing touch he gave the bandages.
Silence continued between them, Kandake letting every thought Feliciano had rampage in his mind, surely damaging. “Your majesty…as a dear friend, you can word whatever is on your mind. I am willing to listen,” she opened.
Feliciano yet remained in that somberness, the only hold he had on the jewels. “So much…there’s just so much.” He let out a deep breath up into the sky, as if it could take all his thoughts away as well.
“In just three days we will be settling to the Club Kingdom, stay near the confinement…to try and hold Khaos there for when the alignment comes.” There were big plans, numerous soldiers and magicians from all the kingdoms were to come, surely the stronghold to do well, yet Feliciano shook. “The alignment is only but a couple of weeks away as well and despite how much Ludwig and I have prepared ourselves for it, I still feel like it isn’t enough.” With each word he only brought more sorrow. “The writings don’t mention what could happen if one is bearing and I’m…” he looked deeply to the bandages, as if he could already hold those babies in his hands “…so worried about them. I’m terrified the alignment can do something drastic,” his voice trembled.
“I doubt it’s something to worry about.”
“But we don’t know!”
“I’m sure you will have control. It’s what you need for this whole situation. Remember you have the main decisions, and if you can keep it together and focus on winning, I’m sure that will be the outcome. These worries shall soon pass, but for now it’s important you do well to maintain that order.”
Feliciano sighed, for once relieved and with a touch of calmness. “And…if it does pass…what then?”
“You can focus on bringing your children, reconstruction, continuing on with a needed new order for a new world.”
“…if I even stay afterwards…”
“What do you mean?”
“The prophecies say that if I defeat Khaos…I take my place as the new Ace of Hearts.”
It was a large detail many tended to forget about, Kandake herself included. It had never happened before, nothing left writings for as to explain or prepare. They didn’t even know how exactly it would occur, how Feliciano would establish himself in the heavens or how he would even change. What about the Hearts Kingdom? Will it then be left without a Queen? Was he simply to leave and take a new job? What about the life he led in this world? What about his family? His friends? What about…Ludwig? What about…his coming twins? Was he to just leave them behind? Live on an eternity knowing he hadn’t spent time with the people that mattered the most to him. It was one of the many things that haunted Feliciano in that aspect. He worded these very questions and worries to Kandake, who could only nod and leave Feliciano to ponder those answers. She knew well to not mess with the decided orders of the Aces, even if it was going against Feliciano’s wishes.
“We will all see in due time,” was all she could say, knowing that it was disappointing, and it wasn’t helping at all with any kind of new ease to her friend. Feliciano had learned to sigh to it all, to try and find a smile, a beauty, one being the very scene presented, and so he started a new conversation of the landmarks they could clearly see, thoughts away from a fearing future.
They were to leave the city in a big parade, with all their numbers, weapons, items and absolutely everything to hold against Khaos. The festivity in the city was as bright and flourishing as the day of coronation, a different tone from those of fear in the last few days. Feliciano did well to remember, to excite, to jump, to dance about the halls as the celebration his people made. He had to be as believing as they were.
For today, he wore gloves, ceremonious and with beautiful white diamonds to shine like the crown they were told to wear. Luckily nobody questioned as they thought he just wore them for the farewell. Just in case, the bandages were underneath, still excusing that the healing was taking too long, that the cut had been too deep.
A large array of their army headed off through the city first, the royals meant to be the very tail. With the numbers, it would take a while before Kiku, Ludwig and Feliciano could head off. They used this residing time to wish farewell to little Augustino, who would be one of the few of the family staying behind.
“I assure you, Lovino, he will be well taken care of. These caretakers are the best in the castle,” Feliciano made sure to his brother, who still kept a tight hold of his son, wanting to hold for as long as he could.
They didn’t know how things could turn out, what they would see or how they could come back. Antonio and Lovino wanted to enjoy being together whole, sweet and plentiful without the rages of what was to occur.
“We…don’t know what’s coming, or even…how long we can be away, I’m just going to miss him and I…worry so…”
Feliciano had never seen his older brother so meek, unsure and faltering.
“You could always stay,” Renata suggested, done herself ready in uniform and elegance.
“I will fight along with my people.” There was his perseverance and strength like the very parade.
“I assure you, your son will be waiting here for your return and his smile and embrace would be your prize of victory,” Aldrich stood as quite a shield, even as he was meant to stay behind in the castle, his condition not the best to partake and fight.
Lovino sighed, calmed, a rare image to see him willingly hold out something so dear, his son, to others without a word of insult or complain. “Please…protect him, do all I have written and let him know how you can that both his parents love him and that they will come back.”
“I promise you, sir,” the caretaker bowed sure.
“The sun infantry is heading out. Antonio, Lovino, come quickly,” Vincenzo came to announce, being part of that very group himself. And these were their last steps, their last farewells, heading off with waves and Lovino with a tremble of tears. Antonio kept a hold on him, assuring and promising…even if he was in the same shaken state, turning and already wishing back the shine of his son.
Renata and Feliciano settled then instead to play with the boy, to ail him as he had extended a call to have his parents back. Feliciano held him the longest, twirling, throwing him in the air, nuzzling or showing him the show of flags and colors that swayed as they headed out of the castle grounds.
“It’s all exciting right now,” Renata commented.
Feliciano sighed, “only for now.” To keep himself from frowning, he cuddled closer to his nephew. Renata joined, wrapping well around them, Feliciano happily sharing cuddles with her too.
“Mamma, being honest…I would prefer you not coming.” Renata raised and showed her resistance, ready to fight despite her son’s words. “You could always stay safe here, and with Augustino.”
With the sigh and the look she gave to her grandson, it seemed like a large temptation. “I’m sorry, Feliciano…but I have to fight too. The kingdom needs everything it can give and…” she then caressed the side of his face sweetly, with identical smiles and care in their eyes, “…I have to be there for you. I have to try and protect you too.”
“Mamma, I am capable. I will be protecting you,” he held her hands in promise.
“Mio bambino…how you’ve grown.” She kissed his head sweetly, the messengers calling: “The dream infantry!”
Renata sighed, knowing it was her leave. She held Augustino tight to her one last time before she left him with Feliciano, then making her way, many giving her respectful bows as if she was another queen. Ludwig came nearer, having finished chatting with his family, noticing the fearful stare Feliciano kept on their moving armies, yet his hold soothing to his nephew.
“We are to part soon ourselves,” Ludwig reminded.
Feliciano hummed, seeming to ignore his answer, only holding Augustino close, placing kisses and words of promise. The little boy had grown accepting, laying well down on his uncle’s shoulder to really fret.
“The Heartian Royal Infantry!” Came the call and that was the castle’s turn to move, all in the high entrance steps of the palace standing ad beginning their synchronized march. They fled out rather beautifully, with long robes, flowers and even drums to match along their steps.
Feliciano’s heartbeat quickened, his breathing hitched and he was ready to scream for all of this to stop. The caretakers came to pick up Augustino from his arms, the little boy fretting and crying. Feliciano couldn’t call back for him or even see it as they instantly went into the castle, now being left behind in a mess of men and women moving. Kiku headed off, one of the guards had to push him forward and he was separated from Ludwig.
“Amore…Amore!” He called desperately, trying to move about the crowd away from the order he was told he should have as they moved across the city. His horse and carriage was waiting, but he avoided them in desperate search for his King.
“Schatz!” And there was a grasp on his arm, endearing and knowing, Feliciano turned to him and embraced him tight, as if they hadn’t been standing together just moments ago. Feliciano cuddled and remained well in him, both ignoring scolds and movements in favor of their arms.
“Ludwig…I could almost just stay,” he admitted. “…I’m…very scared.”
Ludwig held him tighter, kissing his head and rubbing well his sides. “I’m terrified also. But remember that you are Queen as I am King. You are an Ace with incredible power and I’m sure you will prove yourself just the immensity the world has seen you in and we have prepared ourselves for. I’ll be with you…always and together we’ll defeat Khaos.” There was promise in those words that Feliciano could look up to, smiling, with an immense stature of pride that was ready to head off. He was still shaking though. His feet will surely stumble, and he didn’t even think he could walk truly through the whole city.
“Could you…hold me the entire time?” He asked his husband.
They weren’t supposed to, they were supposed to stand proudly on their own and they were heavily suggested to not have any kind of contact through the parade. Part of Ludwig wanted to remain obedient, but the part that held his love for Feliciano was stronger. He smirked, he had learned well to make off with the rules the last few years, something that Feliciano taught him, and he never thought would be for the best. Ignorant to the glares of planners and the stricter guards and soldiers, Ludwig took Feliciano’s arm well in his, patting and even kissing the gloved hand. Feliciano reddened, finding sweet the kiss he gave already to his future children unknowingly.
And so they began their stroll held together, looking to no one but themselves, engaged in normal conversation as if they were in any comfort the castle could give. Occasionally they would wave to the crowds as they passed the streets, being thrown flowers and gifts that they later organized well in their given carriage.
Things settled once they left Berlin behind, in front of them a large caravan of either carriages or walking men and women heading with them to the Club Kingdom, ready for war, ready to meet an atrocity that threatened to destroy their world.
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My One and Lonely
whew! this was intense! I’m really sorry if this doesn’t correctly fulfill these requests, folks! i tried!
1: “okay what about poly yukisonic x reader where the yukio, ellie, and the reader have started a new relationship, but the reader is unsure of it?? and Ellie and yukio just reassure thems?? basically I just want poly yukisonic x reader angst with a happy ending. : ')”
2: “Could you do a negasonic imagine where reader is her girlfriend and has telekinesis? And Wade takes any opportunity to tease the couple so reader constantly uses her powers to slam the door in Wades face?” [yeah i defo didn’t really fill this one but the reader has telekinesis and DOES slam the door in Wade’s face and I have so many requests bro... but I’d be willing to redo this if you’re not satisfied]
TRIGGER WARNING for mentions and discussion of past abuse. the reader also almost has a panic attack. let me know if i missed anything
“You know, you could just talk to them about it,” Wade tells you, and your fork and book fall to the ground.
“Uh, no? I literally can’t, dude. Now my fork’s dirty.”
“Uh, yeah. You literally can, dude. And that’ll teach you to be lazy, using your powers for easy stuff like turning pages and eating. I bet the fork’s not that bad.”
“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” you scoff, and he shrugs, nodding.
“Come on. It’s totally normal for you to be feeling the way you are. They were friends and dating before you came into the picture. Insecurity’s normal. Especially considering-”
“Call me insecure one more time and I’ll use the dirty fork to show you just how insecure your eye’s placement in your skull is,” you threaten, feeling your face heat up. You didn’t like that your weakness was so obvious. Or that he reminded you of her.
“Christ, maybe I really am a bad influence...Nah, we’re just birds of a feather,” Wade says with a cheeky grin you don’t know how you can see through the mask. Maybe his tone of voice makes the subtle expression more perceivable. “Sorry,” he quickly adds. “But, seriously. They’re the last people who are gonna judge you.”
“Who’s the last people that are gonna judge Y/N?” You hear from behind you. Ellie. Shit. She made you far more nervous than Yukio did. Yukio was the gentle, sensitive moon, and Ellie… Ellie was the sun. Nuturing, yes, but scorching, too.
“Well-”
“No one. Not important. Right, Wade?” you plaster on a smile, fiddling with the fork in your hand before letting it float in the air. “Want the rest of my ramen? I’m not very hungry.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Catch,” you say, flinging the fork at him telepathically. He gasps sharply, but his reflexes are quick enough to grab it.
You get up, and notice Ellie looks a bit… gloomier than usual.
“Everything okay?” you ask, and she nods, her lips twitching into a small smile for you before quickly concealing the expression.
“Yeah, I’m alright. ‘Kio and I missed you at lunch, that’s all.”
“Well, I was, uh… Hanging out with Wade. Like you saw,” you explain.
“You didn’t seem very happy. He didn’t say anything to bother you, did he?”
“Oh, uh, no. I was just a bit stressed. Exams coming up and all that.”
“Exams are a couple months away,” Ellie reminds you. “But you were stressed, weren’t you? Look, if you’re having regrets, whatever, fine. I wouldn’t be happy about it and neither would Yukio, but you have a right to your feelings. Just don’t fucking lie to me, okay?”
“I- I promise it’s not about that. Really, I’m… Happy to be with you guys.”
“Then what is it? Seriously?”
You stiffen, you can tell she’s getting angry. Your heart feels like a stone in your chest, cracked and heavy.
“It’s nothing,” you say, not meeting her eyes.
“Alright. Keep your secrets, then,” Ellie sighs, walking away. You head to your room, locking the door behind you. Most students with telepathic abilities get their own rooms in an effort to avoid accidental harm of their fellow students. This was the case for you, and you used to like it.
But then, you met Ellie and Yukio. The two of them were already dating when you were officially introduced, and you became fast friends with them. It quickly evolved into more, and the three of you became what many refer to as a “throuple.”
The facet of the insecurity Wade so rudely talked of earlier was, of course, the fact that they were roommates, and you were alone every night. They got to cuddle and kiss and you got to watch ASMR.
It was depressingly lonely. Sure, every once in awhile you could get away with sleeping over on weekends. But, most of the time, the teachers monitored the rooms, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, in case of emergency.
But, wait, there’s more!
As mentioned previously, Ellie is the sun. Yukio is the moon. What are you in that?
And it didn’t help that you were still struggling to cope with the aftermath of her, a little over a year later.
Before you began your schooling at Xavier’s, you were friends with a small group of fellow mutants that were slowly drawn together by fate. One of these mutants was a girl. You can’t even bear to think her name.
Back then, you were only telepathically gifted. You hadn’t even dreamed you would be capable of telekinesis one day.
But she, she had super-strength, and she liked to use it on you. Even when you didn’t want her to.
You were defenseless.
You shake, pulling your knees to your chest.
“Hey, why’s the door locked? I thought we were all gonna work together on our art projects.” Yukio’s bright voice is muffled by the door.
“Uh, um, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a, um, sec,” you say, your breathing growing heavier and more fast-paced. “Actually, uh, you- you and Ellie sh...sh-should just go and, uh, go work on your projects t-together. I’ll- Yeah, I’ll, uh, figure mine out eventually.” Shit, I’m doing a terrible job at covering this up.
“You okay in there, bunny?” It was a cute nickname that Yukio liked to call both you and Ellie.
“Mmhmm, yeah. Just a bit, uh, very tired. Gonna take a nap soon.”
“Okay…” she says, and you know she doubts you. Failure.
“On second thought, uh, I’ll just go to bed early tonight. Let’s get to work,” you decide, unlocking and opening the door.
Upon opening the door, you notice Wade behind them.
“Didn’t realize you took Art, Wade.”
“You also didn’t realize that we planned for you to come to our room. You were supposed to show up twenty minutes ago, actually. So, we went to talk to Wade. Since you tell him everything these days,” Ellie says, pure bitterness in the mention of Wade. It wasn’t that she hated him. She hated that you told him and not her. Not even Yukio, who she’d admit was far more approachable than her.
“Sorry, kid,” he says. “They had a right to know.”
“You- You didn’t tell them about- About…” You feel your eyes widen, alarm racing through you slowly and quickly at the same time.
“No, not that. Not her. Just the other stuff.”
“Oh.”
“Her?” Ellie asks. “Cheating on us, seriously?”
“No,” you say, and it comes out as a whimper due to her angry tone. “I- I- This was a bad idea, Wade. You guys should just go, all three of you, I don’t feel well, I’m tired, I-”
“I’m gonna leave you kids to sort this out,” Wade tells you three. “Good luck.” He slowly backs away.
“Can you close the door?” Yukio asks, and you jolt, door slamming in Wade’s face.
“Yeah,” you say afterwards. This was becoming less stressful thinking and more panic attack by the moment.
“You’ve been avoiding us lately,” Yukio points out. “Wade already told us why, but… I want to hear it from you, ‘kay?”
“It’s nothing, I-” You take a careful, ragged breath, sitting on your bed. Yukio sits on the stool at your desk, and Ellie leans her back against the door. “I just don’t fit. I’ve never fit in anywhere, and I never will. All I’ve done trying is bother others. Especially Ellie and you.”
“You don’t fit?” Ellie asks. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“I- You’re the sun...Yukio’s the moon… And I’m just… I’m Pluto.” The last bit comes out as a shaky whisper. A large, hot tear rolls down your cheek swiftly.
“What?! No! No, bunny, you’re- You’re…” Yukio kneels in front of you, swiping your tear away with her thumb and keeping your sad face in her hand. “I can’t think of anything, but you’re not Pluto, baby.”
“The eclipse. You’re the eclipse, Y/N. Everything aligning perfectly so that we can be together,” Ellie says thoughtfully. “Is that all? You feel like you don’t have a place here, with us? You do. You’re what makes this whole thing work, okay? Now please, please tell me you didn’t cheat on us for validation.”
“The her comment, right…” you say, the temporary relief you felt by Ellie’s original statement subsiding. “No. I didn’t cheat, I swear. I’d never do that to you guys, to anyone. I… The last relationship I had before you guys was, um… Not the greatest. It was around a year ago, a little more. Before Xavier’s. Before I honed my abilities. There was a girl, a mutant like me. Like us. But she, uh… She had super-strength. And I wasn’t very physically strong, I was pretty weak, actually. So… You can probably see where I’m going with this, or I hope you do, because I don’t like talking about it, not at-” You finally dissolve into tears. “Not at all…”
Ellie rushes towards you to embrace you, and you flinch reflexively.
“I’m sorry. I was really thoughtless. Just now and for most of our interactions today,” Ellie admits. “I’m just… Things between me and ‘Kio weren’t the greatest, but we were trying because we knew we were meant to be together. And then you came along, and everything made sense. Everything finally fit together, perfectly. And- And I don’t wanna lose that. Ever.”
“Same here,” Yukio agrees. “You’re so great, Y/N. Wade said that you feel really lonely all by yourself in here. Maybe we should try to get you transferred to our room. Sometimes they let people room in groups of three, and they probably could use the extra room.”
“Yeah, but… It’d be kind of annoying to have me tagging along all the time,” you remind her.
Ellie’s eye twitches. “Tagging...Along?”
“That’s the phrase, isn’t it?” you ask.
She takes a deep, calming breath, and you watch her fingers move as she counts to ten on them silently. They’re both sitting with you on the bed, now.
“Ah-” Ellie clenches her teeth, hissing for a moment, as if she’s in pain. “Y/N, you’re just as much a part of this relationship as Yukio and I. What part of that is so hard for you to understand?”
“I- I don’t know. It’s just hard to believe. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“What shoes? There are no shoes here,” Yukio tells you. “I really only wear them because it’s frowned upon not to, and because if I didn’t then I’d pick up all sorts of nasty germs.”
Ellie nods in agreement. “Same.”
You sigh, knowing there’s no way to convince them of how worthless you are to the relationship. Maybe because to them, you aren’t?
“Hey, did you see that? I saw that. I think it’s clicking, ‘Kio.”
“I did see it,” Yukio agrees, and you smile a little at their antics, shaking your head. “Let me go to the office and get the room transfer forms. I’d love to stay, but I think you two cuties need to talk a bit… In private.”
Yukio exits.
“I’m...Sorry. For talking to Wade and not you guys. I shouldn’t have-”
“You’re allowed to confide in your friend. I shouldn’t have taken it as personally as I did. I just know there was a time, before we all got together romantically, where you would’ve talked to me or Yukio about something if it stressed you out that much. But I guess not… We didn’t know about her.”
“It’s just hard to even think about. I feel so ashamed all the time, I’m really sorry that I didn’t-”
“Seriously. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, and I feel seriously shitty that I was such an asshole about it. You have a right to privacy, as long as you’re not putting anyone or anything in danger. But, the anyone and anything includes you. Okay?”
“Okay,” you respond, and Ellie kisses your forehead, her dark brown eyes looking to yours before she places the softest kiss on your lips, carefully holding your face as if you were priceless and she didn’t want to risk breaking you. You lean into her, forehead on her shoulder.
“Let’s lay down. I owe you some cuddling. I hear I’m an excellent big spoon,” she tells you.
“From a biased source. Let’s try the sweetheart’s cradle,” you offer.
“What the fuck is the sweetheart’s cradle?”
“Honestly, I did far too much research into the perfect cuddle position, for the time it might actually happen.”
“We don’t really cuddle, do we? Yukio hasn’t really given you any cuddles either, has she? Wow, you’re really missing out- ...Oh. I’m so sorry,” Ellie apologizes, looking more heartbroken than determined with this one. She hadn’t realized the extent to which you were being neglected by them. “I’m sorry, doll. Really sorry.”
“Doll? That’s new,” you comment.
“I figured you deserved a petname of your own,” Ellie informs you. “Now, explain this ‘sweetheart’s cradle’ to me.”
#tw abuse#tw abuse ment#fanfiction#deadpool fanfiction#tw panic attack ment#negasonic teenage warhead#negasonic teenage warhead x reader#negasonic x yukio#negasonic teenage warhead imagine#negasonicteenageimagines#yukisonic#yukisonic x reader#ellie phimister imagine#Ellie Phimister#ellie phimister x reader#yukio x reader#yukio imagine#x-men fanfiction#x-men imagine#x-men#yukio#WLW#wlw fanfiction#wlw x reader#wlw imagine#lesbian#lesbian fanfiction#lesbian imagine#ik not all of you are lesbians but I need to add more tags or no one will ever read these
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Reviewing time for MAG128 /o/
- I!! Hate!! The!! Parallels!! In!! This!! Series!!
(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: Why are you here?
BREEKON: Dunno. ‘t’s not right… on my own… not right… No point in doing it on my own. Don’t know what happens now…
[…] “I fed her to it. She took him from me. Made us a me, and she doesn’t get to die for that. […] I am without him, now. I. am. I can feel myself fading. Weak. No reason to move. Nothing to deliver. […] I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now, they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.”
[…] ARCHIVIST: I, I saw that… thing’s mind, i–it’s lost on its own. No partner, no… purpose, I… I honestly think it just wanted to do another delivery.
The ~ surviving part of a half~ explaining how his whole existence is pointless and driveless now that his partner has been killed… sounded so, so much like Basira’s own situation regarding Daisy since:
(MAG112) DAISY: Elias is… keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. [FALTERS] I’m used to working… with a partner. … It’s fine.
BASIRA: Daisy…
DAISY: It’s fine.
BASIRA: Right. … But it’s not, though, is it?
(MAG117) BASIRA: […] But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. We go in, we plant bombs, we leave, we blow it all to hell. Or we die. I don’t think I’ll ever have clarity like that. Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.
1°) Basira and Breekon both are the remaining part of their own duo; the difference between monsterhood and humans being maybe… that Basira’s existence isn’t intrinsically tied to Daisy’s; that humans can feel loss and pain, but won’t get their literal raison d’être, sense of purpose and belonging shattered if they lose part or one aspect of them. In a way, that makes monsters’ existence more tragic, since they’re not even able to overcome, to thrive and to survive?
2°) I can’t help but wonder, flipping the situation: and if Daisy had been fed to the coffin first, and if Basira had stumbled upon Hope right after, would Basira have tried to hurt (one of) them the same way they had hurt her by taking Daisy’s life? (Would Jon have done it, too, if given the opportunity to hurt the ones who had hurt Tim and Sasha? He… actually did hurt Breekon here, and it is so, so easy, now, to perceive him as a Monster from the monsters’ point of view…)
3°) Jon’s summary of Breekon’s current state to Basira felt… quite cold compared to the statement itself, I felt? It wasn’t just “another delivery”: it was Breekon trying to viciously hurt what had hurt him. It was achieving a personal revenge before disappearing. I’m… a bit surprised that Jon went so clinical about it.
4°) But it could have also been a kind of protection, since… Yes, “Breekon” and “Hope” tortured and killed, delighting in others’ suffering and misery. And Breekon also confirmed something that we had seen through Jude’s erh, fascination with Agnes: that monsters and avatars are sentient. They have feelings. They are able to form attachments, to feel loss, to desire revenge. So… just because someone cares about a selected few, wouldn’t prevent them from hurting bystanders, innocent or people who just don’t personally matter to them. That’s not something especially encouraging when we have Jon in mind – he cares about the assistants and about Georgie, and he felt sad for the victims in previous statements, and I hope he will be able to remain this way, but… what will happen, what will be become when he “drowns”, indeed?
- I’m often struck with waves of awareness about how much I love this friggin’ series when listening to new episodes, and it happens in various ways – this time, my heart got full of love with the way Breekon’s statement definitely connected the dots between previous ones, through his point of view and in chronological order? And in the midst of it, we got a confirmation of what had actually happened in the second episode of the series!! How rad is this? How rad is it that, while the statements in themselves provide a story that works on its own since the beginning of the series, we’re able to revisit them with information that adds so much more meaning to things that were already there?
* Jon had wondered about “Breekon” and “Hope”’s alignment since they appeared to be involved with various powers, but seems they were indeed part of The Stranger in the end:
(MAG093) ARCHIVIST: But Breekon and Hope? Speaking Russian and helping transport a victim of… whatever dark power rules over disease and rot. And insects, maybe? I was just about convinced that they served the Stranger, and their speaking Russian might well support that if it ties them to the Circus, but… this is not the first time they’ve been delivering things that seem to be tied to other beings. Are they a neutral party, carting round whatever horror needs delivering, just a piece of otherworldly infrastructure? Or are they fully part of the Stranger, just serving as allies of convenience for other things that need to be moved?
(MAG128, “Breekon”) It wasn’t the plague they feared; it wasn’t the death that awaited in our wagon; it was us. Two strangers rolling towards them, unstoppable and uncertain, wearing faces they would only half-remember, bringing a fate they would beg their god to forget. They could not hate us anymore than they might have hated the rock that falls on them from a crumbling cliff. They did not know us. But they knew what we might do to them. What we might bring them. And we did. […] We always take what jobs are before us, deliver whatever will bring that fear and misery, but there is no joy in carrying Meat and shifting, writhing Spiral things.
They followed various phases of progress and technology: long-distance boat journeys as they served on the Robert Small during the 19th century, crossing paths with prisoners from Millbank sent to Australia (“Poor wretches who emerged from Millbank, with tales of Australia and its cruelty on their lips, bundled into the cramped and creaking ship that would drag them away from everything they loved – and towards everything they feared.”); trains, as they became conductors; cars, as they delivered items for auction houses at the beginning of the 20th century.
* Pre-MAG024, MAG044: during some time, including from 1948 to November 1952, they joined The Other Circus, feeling like they belonged:
(MAG024) ARCHIVIST: […] on page 43 of Gregory Petry’s Freaks and Followers: Circuses in the 1940s, I found a reproduction of an old black-and-white photograph. It shows a small group of carnival workers: a contortionist, a fire-eater, two strong-men, a ringmaster and an organist sitting behind a calliope. The photograph is labelled as being from 1948 and taken in Minsk, Russia.
(MAG044, Yuri Utkin) As I scrambled back, I felt a large hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see two huge men in overalls. They lifted me easily, so my feet hung almost two feet from the ground. They talked fast, crude Russian, and their words seemed to shift back and forth between them, telling me that behind the tent was off-limits […].
(MAG128, “Breekon”) Then were the good times, the Circus times. […] with the Circus we were amongst our own kind at last. […] We carried and lifted and helped the Circus move towards its next destination, the next, doomed town. Sometimes we joined the show, lifting weights and things that looked like animals. Sometimes we lifted members of the audience. Sometimes we even put them down again. […]
They didn’t like Nikola at first, but were impressed by her, though they eventually decided to leave when she “lost the ancient skin” – that one is, I think, a mystery? Gertrude stole the gorilla skin from the taxidermy shop but that happened June 23th 2013 and April 4th 2015, so it can’t be the same incident.
* For some time, they picked up hitchhikers (and starved them to death), though they missed having clear destinations and carrying spooky items bringing misery to people.
* MAG096: From 1993 to 1996, they slowly took over Alfred Breekon’s delivery company “Breekon & Hope”, stealing from him its name aaaand the infamous Cockney accent (MAG096: “[One] turned to his companion and opened his mouth. ‘Breekon at your service. Who might you be?’ Instead of the Russian accent I had expected, he spoke in a broad, cartoonish Cockney that I assumed must be a mocking impression of my own voice.”). They went back to doing deliveries or moving items for different entities (MAG093).
(MAG096, Alfred/Arthur Breekon) They wore featureless grey overalls, and even now I’m not sure I could easily describe what they look like, other than to say they seemed solid. Somehow heavier than the world around them. […] Strange folk began coming around asking for Breekon and Hope, and when I told them who I was, they just shook their heads, and I knew who they were after. They often brought crates or boxes with them and, once, a sack full of hair. […] For all that, they do seem to have friends, or at the very least, people who come to see them regularly. Most I don’t remember, the features difficult to put together from memory, but I know that more than once I’ve seen the pair of them talking to a figure at the other end of the depot. They always make sure these meetings are in shadow, and I can never get close enough to see exactly who they’re talking to, but I think they’re dressed like a circus ringmaster.
(MAG128, “Breekon”) Driving aimless, waiting for the call, sat badly with us. We were meant to know our destination. We were meant to have a cargo and an address. So it was we found a man named “Breekon”, and we took everything they were until there was nothing left but the sweet taste of a broken soul’s disquiet and confusion. We took the van and started to deliver once again.
* MAG002: In the 90s, they helped “John” carry an item from The Buried, when he was trying to test its powers – except it backfired badly, since the test subject he had picked turned out to be the Most Practical “Would Survive A Horror Movie” Statement-Giver Ever, and Joshua Gillespie managed to resist the coffin’s temptation for almost a year and a half. We already had a hint about “John” being from The Stranger in MAG002, because of how Joshua had trouble describing him:
(MAG002, Joshua Gillespie) I’ve tried to describe the man who now sat opposite me many times, but it’s difficult. He was short, very short, and felt like he had an odd density to him. His hair was brownish, I think, cut quite short, and he was clean shaven. His face and dress was utterly unremarkable, and the more I try to think of exactly what he looked like, the harder it is to picture him clearly. To be honest, though, I’m inclined to blame that on the drugs. […] John had to take a second to look me up and down, almost in disbelief, as I asked if they’d come to collect their coffin.
(MAG128, “Breekon”) And so we took the casket, a hungry thing of the Earth, a crushing, choking tomb that will not let you die because it is too much what it is for Death to find you there, within its mocking shape – buried alive. It was one like us that found it. A thing of shifting names and déjà-vu. A fool, that believed because it found a coffin in chains, it would be an easy thing to control, to bargain with. But there was no remorse when the test finally failed and it fed on the thing that considered itself the master.
Since Joshua had managed to not open the coffin, “John” was swallowed by it instead when they went to retrieve it.
* Breekon and Hope ended up stuck with the coffin and had to carry it around.
(MAG128, “Breekon”) But there was no mention of us in the deal. No thought towards what might happen should a victim pass the test. And what happened was… we were stuck with it. It was still our cargo. Nowhere to take it, no address or destination, so back in the van it went. A long time, we’ve carried it. Keeping it as close as it wants, not listening to it sing in the rain.
When Jon was sequestered by Nikola, she had made her distaste of the coffin clear, hinting that it wasn’t from The Stranger, while Breekon and Hope had said they couldn’t separate from it:
(MAG101) NIKOLA: Oh, don’t worry, it’s not for you. You won’t even need a coffin – we’re going to use every piece of you.
ARCHIVIST: [MUFFLED EXCLAMATION]
NIKOLA: Now could you two please move that thing somewhere far, far away?
BREEKON: Not really.
HOPE: Needs to be near us.
NIKOLA: Well, just… just move yourselves away, and take it with you.
* MAG061: The coffin notably ate Daisy’s partner, Isaac Masters, on the 24th of July 2002 while they had stopped Breekon&Hope’s van (accompanied by a “Tom”) on the motorway for driving too slow.
* Overall: in MAG078 (2001, the Web table now binding the Not!Them), MAG024 (2004, the calliope), MAG020 (2009, Father Edwin Burroughs’s pale yellow stole), MAG054 (2013, stopped in front of the Taxidermy shop), possibly MAG083 (2013, taking the ringmaster “mannequin”), MAG035 (July 2016, bringing the Web table and the Web lighter to the Institute for Jon), MAG099 (May 2017, Jon was the (unwilling) package.), Breekon and Hope carried and moved things around, being mostly active for Stranger-related activities.
(MAG128, “Breekon”) Even when the mannequin that now called itself Orsinov came back to us, told us we could help the world Unknow and fear again the coming of Strangers, still we had to drag it with us: an unclaimed package.
* MAG119: during the Unknowing ritual, we heard Daisy as she snapped and tore Hope apart, Breekon then trapped her into the coffin.
(MAG128, “Breekon”) But I suppose it was worth it in the end. When that Hunter killed him, when she took her violence of mindless instinct and unleashed it on us… it was there. It was waiting. I fed her to it.
* MAG128: with Hope dead, Breekon realized he wasn’t tied to the coffin anymore and delivered the coffin to the Institute. Breekon fled, but will probably fade away soon.
- We got some additional information / some confirmation about Nikola’s creation, too:
(MAG097) ARCHIVIST: Who are you?
NIKOLA: Well, my father called me Nikola, and then I killed him, so I thought I rather deserved to have his second name too. Which makes me Nikola Orsinov. Pleased to meet you at last.
ARCHIVIST: You, um… You killed Gregor Orsinov?
NIKOLA: Yep! He got really boring, and I’m a monster. I mean, what do you want me to do – not pull him apart? I did use all the bits.
(MAG102) ELIAS: […] There is also one, the “Danseuse Étoile”, that requires a costume of special power or distinction. Gertrude believed that Orsinov and his circus created a dancer specifically for this role.
ARCHIVIST: I–I’ve met it. Calls itself Nikola.
(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, I s… I see the sad clown, b–bitter and hateful. I see him finding his way into a ci–circus where nobody knew him. I see him torn apart, becoming the mask, remade by a… a cruel ringmaster. Sometimes a doll, sometimes a mannequin, always hiding in somebody else’s skin. Somebody else’s name.
NIKOLA: Not always, and it’s far too late for any of that. Nothing you see can help you.
(MAG128, Breekon) We didn’t like the puppet, when Orsinov began to carve it. It seemed wrong to us to try and bring one like us about; to create or remake it in such a solid, static shape. We were wrong, of course. When Orsinov carved into the thing that had once called itself Grimaldi, and fed the pieces they didn’t need to the shuddering organist, even we found ourselves impressed. And when the faceless puppet peeled its creator and moved itself with their tendon strings, he looked at me… and laughed… and laughed…
We followed her a while, but she was unpredictable, while we are things of point and purpose. When she lost the ancient skin, we went our separate ways and found ourselves a lorry, long and dirty grey.
I had assumed that “Nikola” was the Hellish Lovechild of Gregor Orsinov (the ringmaster) and Nikolai Denikin (the organist), but it sounds like Denikin did Not Have A Great Time in that process after all, oopsie – we knew, according to Gertrude, that he had left the circus by the 70s (MAG044), so it might have been precisely because of what was done to him during Nikola’s creation. I wonder if he fathered his child before or after he was fed Grimaldi’s pieces, though? Because if so… is Leanne (statement-giver from MAG024), his granddaughter, kind of part-monster?
- With the chronology given through the courriers’ point of view, Breekon’s mention that he felt itself fading, and Jon’s following comment:
(MAG128) BASIRA: And there’s no chance more of the Circus survived the explosion?
ARCHIVIST: I don’t think so. At, at least… Breekon didn’t think so.
… it sounds like Breekon’s statement served mostly to close The Stranger’s chapter. It feels… very weird, in a way. The Stranger had been the most prevalent of the entities since the beginning of the series: it opened it (MAG001), it was the invisible enemy through season 2, it was the shared target through season 3. It took Sasha. It took Tim. And now, the close future doesn’t sound much brighter: there are still books, monsters and avatars roaming out there, there is still the New Unidentified Menace, there is still the possibility of The Watcher’s Crown, there is still The Web weaving Her/its plans. The only satisfaction is that The Stranger’s ceremony won’t be a concern again for a few centuries, but there are still so many other threats to deal with…
- I’m also so fond of the way… things in Magnus tend to be hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time? That statement went full-on burlesque, twisting the deep-rooted complementarity and love into grotesque, and then bam, the conclusion just felt… sad? Tragic?
(MAG128, “Breekon”) They knew this and feared us in kind, and we drank it down, the taste of it sweeter than the food that now rotted on our plates or the drink that curdled in our cups. And we both tasted it together. When we left our destination, the mule whining at the new weight behind it, he would reach behind us and find a face, sagging, sloughing off its skull, and would pull it to him. He’d place it over the one he wore already, and he would laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Sometimes it fell off. Sometimes it stayed for weeks. I kept the face we chose, but I loved him for our levity, and the corpses piled ever higher. […] We knew she wouldn’t scream as she was hollowed out and drunk, but still he thought best to cover the sounds with a laugh. He was always our humour. […] And when the faceless puppet peeled its creator and moved itself with their tendon strings, he looked at me… and laughed… and laughed…
[…] She took him from me. Made us a me, and she doesn’t get to die for that. […] I am without him, now. I. am. I can feel myself fading. […] I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now, they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.
ROMANCE!! IS!! NOT!! DEAD!!
- I’m very serious about how WOW did Breekon and Hope sound like soulmates, in a romantic or queerplatonic way. That “I remember our first automobile” too, felt like an old couple taking a look back on their whole life together. “Things” pretending to be “humans” and at the same time… demonstrating genuine emotions?
And the whole use of pronouns! Breekon was avoiding them in his first sentences – sometimes avoiding to say I because he couldn’t say “we” anymore! Sentences being short and segmented, as if waiting for Hope to complete with the next part!
(MAG128) BREEKON: [HUFFS] Yeah. Just like when we… when I… fed the copper to the pit. […] In here. Realized that I’m not tied… to it anymore. Not on my own. Thought you could have it. Pay your respects, lik– […] Dunno. ‘t’s not right… on my own… not right… No point in doing it on my own. Don’t know what happens now… Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just… deliver something. So here’s a coffin. [RATTLING SOUND] In case you want… to join your friend.
And in the statement, too: Hope was The “He” for Breekon, while humans tended to be “they”, even when identified as male/female (only exception being the old woman taken by The Web). Nikola was a “she”.
That’s… very fair, considering how Jon and others tend to use “it” for monsters: Jon began the episode by calling Breekon a “he”, and then switched after the statement (“I, I saw that… thing’s mind, i–it’s lost on its own. No partner, no… purpose, I… I honestly think it just wanted to do another delivery.” Rude, Jon, rude!!! Especially since the monsters just proved themselves to have feelings :w)
I never thought I would grow sad for effing Breekon and Hope, godsdamnit!
- Since MAG127 already mentioned Millbank and its possible ties to the Institute (through Jonah Magnus), and Breekon also consecutively mentioned both here, it sounds more and more likely that we’ll dig a bit into that part of history later:
(MAG128, “Breekon”) Poor wretches who emerged from Millbank, with tales of Australia and its cruelty on their lips, bundled into the cramped and creaking ship that would drag them away from everything they loved – and towards everything they feared. That was the first time we saw what would become this place, The Eye’s Pedestal. But we were drunk on the dawning horror of transportation and took no heed of it.
It’s… curious how Beholding has been grounded in the same place for so long? It seems to be the only entity to have become sedentary like this – Elias even mentioned that “Should I, or the Institute, be destroyed, you will all, unfortunately, follow suit.” (MAG092). That made it practical to feed The Eye (with people giving statements to an identified place), and now a danger since other entities know where The Eye’s people reside. Given how the place sounds so important, is The Watcher’s Crown supposed to take place right there? Though we don’t know how long the Usher Foundation in Washington DC and the Pu Songling Research Centre in Beijing have been around and whether they have the same status and history as the Magnus Institute (there wasn’t any mention of Archivists being tied to them, though; Xiaoling even explained how she had suggested someone from her centre for Elias…)
(I don’t know if the word “pedestal” was used on purpose here but… etymological root has to do with a foot. Elias had also said that “Basira is now tied to the Institute. All of you are. Like fingers on a hand. And I am the beating heart of it.” We’re completing the anatomy analogy?)
- Overall: HOLYYY MEEWWWWW, even though I’ve relistened to the episode multiple times by now, I just get chills every time when Jon… freezes the scene. The sound effects were so good, too!! Regular static, encasing that high-pitched buzz… and I loved the echo so much when Jon
gave
orders
We’re so used to Jon getting slapped around that this sudden moment of control and authority was!!! The fact he sounded more offensive, aggressively protective!!
Even at the beginning of the episode, the fact that Jon was in charge of the situation was audible, since there were some shared elements with Nikola’s debut:
(MAG097) ARCHIVIST: [SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH FROM THE ARCHIVIST]
NIKOLA: You don’t want to do thaaat~ [FOOTSTEPS] I mean, you can if you really want to, but you’re not going to like it. Sometimes not being able to see something is actually quite a good thing. […] Don’t turn on the light.
(MAG128) BREEKON: Don’t say a word.
[SILENCE]
BASIRA: [LONG EXHALE]
[DOOR OPENS]
BASIRA: Jon. Don’t turn on the light. Go get Melanie. Quickly.
ARCHIVIST: It’s alright Basira, I know he’s here.
BASIRA: So what are you doing?
ARCHIVIST: I imagine he’s here to deliver something. Thought it might need signing for.
Light off, a Stranger who sneaked their way into Georgie’s house/the Archives. With Nikola, Jon was startled, stuttering, afraid, toyed with, dominated; with Breekon, Jon… managed. Stayed put. Snarked and used his powers. Stopped Basira and Breekon when they were on the verge of fighting. Neutralized Breekon.
(Though I think that Breekon might have punched/tackled Jon on the ground when he fled, and Jon collapsed right after reading the statement aloud so, eh, Order Is Restored in the world. Jon also still a punching bag.)
- Aaaaand in-universe, it was awful, thanks!!!
So, Jon finally used compulsion again. He’d really held back until now, and mostly used it when Breekon was refusing to answer Basira’s own questions:
(MAG128) BASIRA: Is he here for revenge?
ARCHIVIST: I don’t, I don’t know. Ask him.
BASIRA: Like he’s going to answer me.
ARCHIVIST: Fine. [INHALE] [STATIC–] Are you here for revenge? [/STATIC]
[…] BASIRA: What do you want? Why are you here?
[SILENCE]
ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] [STATIC–] Why are you here? [/STATIC]
That was a lot of compulsion, but expected from an interrogation, and mostly to back Basira up. Jon also knew that Breekon was there – probably from another ~insight~. The new thing was how… Jon then proceeded to very naturally use a brand new power? Not 100% sure whether he was driven by a will to prevent harm to Basira (she was ready to fight Breekon) or by a desire to know Breekon’s story, or a mix of both, so intentions are not absolutely clear. The process, however, was worrisome in the mere concept of EXTRACTING a statement out of someone; the fact that Breekon clearly didn’t want it, told Jon to stop and was suffering from it… made it absolutely horrifying.
(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: Stop. [HIGH-PITCHED BUZZING SOUND OVER STATIC–]
BREEKON: What’re you doing?
BASIRA: … Jon…? What are you doing?
BREEKON: What’re you– Stop it… Stop it!
ARCHIVIST: [ECHOING] No.
BREEKON: [STRUGGLING, BUZZING INCREASES] Enough! Stop… looking at me!
(And I’m not sure that Jon didn’t actually contribute in Breekon’s feeling that he was “fading”: Jon got to know the unknown. I doubt that it can do any good to an agent from The Stranger – it seems like hurting their nature.)
+ Bonus point for Jon possibly developing night vision, since the whole scene took place in the dark (Basira told him to not turn on the light, and we didn’t hear the clicking of any switch). Though Basira also managed, so maybe Jon didn’t need to see.
(He looked at Breekon, however: did it feel like the whole weight of Beholding, like Jon experienced in his nightmares?)
- Basira had just summarised Jon’s powers last episode (MAG127: “So. You can’t be killed by a collapsing building. Major injuries scar up fast. You can force the truth out of people and knowledge pops into your head whenever you need it.”) and we’re already adding one more to the list – and it turns out to be that Jon can extract the story of an unwilling person out of them. It might have been in order to protect Basira here, but it also feels like the slope from one thing to the next could be so, so slippery… (from there to using his powers against a monster that wasn’t directly harming them, because they need its information; to using his powers against… anyone, really, as long as it’s protecting the assistants, even against people who never wished harm to them). Just this would make it understandable that Basira refuses to trust Jon or to get too close to him, since he’s proving that he’s developing, and fast, and that she can’t know what he will (become able to) do.
… At the same time, Jon would definitely need anchors and moral compasses around. (Martin, while you’re busy and involved into Peter’s schemes, and maybe truly fighting an actual threat, Jon is turning into another one ;;)
- Added horrifying bonus: it… sounded a bit like the “statement never given” that Elias did to Daisy? There was static when he gave it:
(MAG082) ELIAS: Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to make a statement. Your statement. […] Statement of Alice Tonner, regarding the crimes and death of Calvin Benchley. Statement never given. […] Everyone calls me Daisy. I like that because it sounds so gentle, and I’m the only one left who knows about the scar on my back.
Jon’s and Elias’s powers had sounded very distinct until now, but some bits are making them sound more similar, this season? Thinking about MAG102 again, I remember the sudden burst of static just before Elias mentioned that Melanie was coming up with a knife: had he seen that, or had he known about it (like Jon’s insight, same burst of static), since I doubt that Melanie’s knife was in clear sight in the corridors leading to his office?
(It wasn’t the same thing as what Elias did to Melanie in MAG106 and Martin in MAG118, since Elias didn’t present those as statements and used the third person, and, overall, the whole concept of it felt different: it wasn’t about extracting their stories, but about carving information they didn’t yet know in their brains. Putting in knowledge that wasn’t there. Will Jon become able to do that too eventually/soon…?)
- MMMMMMMMMMM
(MAG127) ELIAS: Possibly. Then again: you are beset by enemies on all sides, Basira. And unless you expect Jon to record them into submission, it would seem you’re in rather dire need of another option.
DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT NEW POWER, YOU AWFUL MAN :| (Since Jon “extracted a statement out of them into submission” and it was recorded.)
It also sounds less and less likely that Elias’s reasons to not be face-to-face with Jon are truly about ~*Jon’s own good (according to Elias)*~, uh.
(MAG128) BASIRA: […] So you won’t see him, but you’re happy for him to hear our conversations.
ELIAS: He can listen all he wants, but he’s at a very delicate stage right now, and I… fear my presence would be a… a distraction. I’ve made it clear my cooperation’s contingent on his not seeing me, and my terms have been accepted thus far.
YEAH L-O-L ELIAS. Are you actually fearing that not only Jon could compulse the heck out of you now, but also pull out your own fucking statement out of you without you having a say in that. Hilariously (/horrifyingly), is the fact that Elias was thrown in jail… actually protecting him from Jon?
(I’m not saying that Elias wouldn’t be into Jon forcefully extracting his statement out of him. He was really into getting compulsed, even while fighting off the effect of it. But it would mean that Jon forcing information out of him probably wouldn’t be serving his plans right now, which means… he indeed Has Plans and things he wants to hide.)
- At least, Jon’s new power sounds like it’s taking its toll on him, which I’m taking as a good thing (since it will force him to be cautious about that, the sheer immorality and violence and cruelty of the power in itself notwithstanding):
(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: Statement… ends.
[RUFFLING OF CLOTHES ENDING WITH A THUD AS PROTAGONIST, WHO DEMONSTRATED A FAIRLY SURPRISING AMOUNT OF USEFULNESS THIS EPISODE, PROCEEDS TO SLIDE OFF CHAIR AND PASS THE FUCK OUT.]
I’ve laughed too many times on that stupid moment, I have no excuse for feeling like it’s Comedy Gold, but. But. Listen. It’s so… so Jon.
Another reason for Jon’s tiredness could also be due to the amount of statements he’s been handling lately. He has had periods like this: the end of season 2 was… pretty intense, only three weeks from MAG071 to MAG080. Right now, less than twenty days have passed from MAG121 (15th February 2018) to MAG128 (3rd March 2018). Assuming that MAG122 also took place on February 15th, 2018:
MAG122: February 15th
MAG123: February 17th (“Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.”)
MAG124: February 24th (“It’s been a week and… Melanie’s attitude towards me hasn’t softened.”)
MAG125: ?
MAG126: ?
MAG127: ?
MAG128: 3rd March
That means that since MAG124, Jon has been reading a statement about every other day (and at least once two days in a row). The current rhythm feels very close to the streak from MAG091 to MAG094, April 28th and 29th, which resulted in Jon giving up at the end of MAG094 and blaming it on the amount of statements (“Are you alright? You look like you’re about to keel over.” “Uh, no, I– I just… Ther– There’s been a lot of statements, in not a lot of time. I’m… I’m exhausted.”)
The average rhythm was around once a week usually, I don’t know if this means that Jon has been exhausting himself lately (to be fair, he doesn’t have a whole lot to do, since nobody wants to talk to him and he’s unable to do satisfying follow-ups) or that he feels withdrawal faster than before… and/or, in any case, if he’s just “obeying” the tape recorders when he sees one running.
- I feel Basira’s distrust very deeply, since… since Jon chose to write Breekon’s statement before recording it.
(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: It’s fine…! [/STATIC] Get me a pen… please.
[CLICK.]
[…] ARCHIVIST: Basira, we, we can’t–
BASIRA: Yeah, I can read.
It’s not a given at all. Why did Jon decide to write it down, when he probably could have just recorded it right away?
I’m obsessed with this but: I can’t help but think that it might be related to Jon’s dreams – did he assume that recording right away would have made it count as a live-statement and that he would be “given” another dream, Breekon’s?
Assuming that Jon still sleeps. But at least, we know he can pass out! And he still drinks. He had asked for water back in MAG122, and Basira brought him another glass in MAG128 according to the sound.
(MAG122) BASIRA: […] Anything else?
ARCHIVIST: Water. Please.
BASIRA: Sure thing. [OPENS DOOR]
ARCHIVIST: … Oh, or a cup of t–
BASIRA: [CLOSES DOOR]
(MAG128) BASIRA: Here. [GLASS CLINKING]
ARCHIVIST: Thank you.
- Now that we’ve had confirmation that Daisy is actually alive, reminder that:
(MAG120) ELIAS: […] All through it, the shadow is above him; the shape that gazes down upon him, bloodshot and unblinking. The rain is still there, though it is empty; the long and desolate road, slick with the downpour, a police car’s lights flashing over the unmoving van. The doors are open and the two familiar statues stand either side of the well-worn wooden box. He looks around, his eyes scanning this forever road and the clouds of iron grey, looking for her – but she is not there. The Archivist expects, he hopes, to find the violence in her looking back at him, hungry for pursuit and murder. But the emptiness of the place is complete, the only sounds the gentle singing of the box, and the pounding, bitter rain. He knows the writing on the coffin has changed, though is still carved into the splintered wood: [STATIC INTENSIFIES] “I am for you.” He knows it is not addressed to him, but he reaches down and pulls the chains off all the same. It opens, and he walks slowly down the steps into the earth; but even as it closes above him, the great shadow still Sees him. There is nowhere in this universe that it would not blot out the sky.
We don’t know what is supposed to happen if a live statement giver dies. Daisy’s case, though, was already an oddity, since her dream was still there – without her. Breekon did imply that The Eye couldn’t access the coffin when mentioning “John”:
(MAG128, “Breekon”) It was one like us that found it. A thing of shifting names and déjà-vu. A fool, that believed because it found a coffin in chains, it would be an easy thing to control, to bargain with. But there was no remorse when the test finally failed and it fed on the thing that considered itself the master. No face to Change in the cold, dark earth, and no Eye to fool, where it is now.
So although The Eye is all-powerful in Jon’s dreams, the coffin seems to be out of its reach in our world. Is that an overall property from The Buried, or specific to the coffin? I wonder if Leitner’s pamphlet, A Disappearance, is actually a Buried book too? (My suspicion had been The Spiral until now.)
(MAG080) LEITNER: Hardly a book. Barely twelve pages. It is entitled A Disappearance. If read cover to cover it removes one from the world. I cannot say precisely what that means, only that the assistant I assigned to it, Jacob Feng, was never seen again. I have found, however, that reading only one or two words is sufficient to hide me from the prying eyes of your master. It allowed me to talk with Gertrude in relative safety, and occasionally come above ground for my own ends.
(We… don’t know the status of that one, by the way, since Leitner had it close with him when Elias butchered him. So Elias probably got his hands on it.)
Overall: Jon still hasn’t mentioned anything about his dreams so far, while telling Basira that she could trust him and sounding very transparent and honest… I’m still not sure if Basira is suspicious of Jon having an active part in the dreams she used to have before becoming an assistant (and that Daisy still had as of MAG112, since she wasn’t an assistant), but if she is: that’s another reason to be wary of Jon. She would know there is something else that he’s not telling her anything about. What do you know/remember about your dreams, Jon…
- YOU KNOW WHO CAN FIND PEOPLE/THINGS THAT ARE “CONCEALED” THOUGH? THINGS THAT THE EYE CAN’T REACH?
(MAG101) “MICHAEL”: The Eye watches, and the Stranger conceals, but me… I lie, Archivist. I am the throat of delusion incarnate. They can’t hide you from me.
Jon! Jon!!!
Could “Helen” help to reach the inside of the coffin…? (Really not sure about it, since it was about The Stranger, not The Buried, but then… Breekon was able to tell that people didn’t die inside of the coffin. How could it know? There might be ways to know/feel what is alive down there…)
- Basira time because Holy Mew did I get feelings all over.
(MAG128) [CLICK–]
[SILENCE] [MOVEMENT, CHAIR RATTLING]
BREEKON: Don’t say a word.
[SILENCE]
BASIRA: [LONG EXHALE]
[DOOR OPENS]
BASIRA: Jon. Don’t turn on the light. Go get Melanie. Quickly.
BASIRA, gdi!!! The fact that she was still level-headed enough to give instructions right away while threatened!! (I wonder if she told Jon to get Melanie to protect her, or if she thought that Melanie could still… be well enough to act as their fighter again, even when not under The Slaughter’s influence and recovering?)
And SSSSSSSSHHHHH you felt the shift when Breekon alluded to Daisy; Jon needed to act with her like she had acted with Daisy in the past, that really meant that she was ready to snap hard.
(MAG092) DAISY: Bouchard.
BASIRA: Easy.
(MAG128) BREEKON: Yeah. Just like when we… when I… fed the copper to the pit.
BASIRA: [ANGRY INHALE]
ARCHIVIST: Easy, Basira.
BASIRA: [EXHALE]
(And towards the end, was ready to FIGHT BREEKON…….)
(MAG128) BREEKON: In here. [KNOCKS ON SOMETHING] Realized that I’m not tied… to it anymore. Not on my own. Thought you could have it. Pay your respects, lik–
BASIRA: Daisy’s in there.
Her voice and my heart broke at the same time with her “Daisy’s in there” AOUCH AOUCH AOUCH…
I’m still so fond of the way Basira is able to assess things very quickly and efficiently… and for once, she tipped over and lost her cool. Breekon made her crack, and holy Arceus, the fact that it was about Daisy…………….. hhh.
- Given how Basira announced that she would leave right after Jon stated that the coffin was from The Buried…
(MAG127) ELIAS: I might have an idea, yes.
BASIRA: And what does it cost?
ELIAS: Just some of your time, Basira. Just your time.
BASIRA: … [SIGHS] Okay. Let’s hear it. [CLICK.]
(MAG128) BASIRA: Where does the coffin lead?
ARCHIVIST: … The Buried.
BASIRA: Right. [SILENCE] [INHALES] Right. Keep it safe, I’ll be gone a few days. I have some leads I need to follow up.
ARCHIVIST: Sorry…?!
BASIRA: You heard me.
I’m suspecting that Elias might have told her something cryptic and Buried-related, and that Basira pieced it together at that moment? What Elias told her could have been totally unrelated but it feels like an odd coincidence (especially since Jon had just proven that he could use his powers to neutralize enemies after all) and… going back to MAG120:
(MAG120) ELIAS: Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim.
MARTIN: Don’t.
ELIAS: And Daisy, I suppose.
MARTIN: Don’t. you. dare.
It sounded, back then, like the usual joke of belatedly remembering Daisy’s existence. But it could have also been Elias knowing that she wasn’t dead like Tim.
- I’m worried about what Elias told her, though, and what Basira will have to do ;; Assuming it’s all to bring back Daisy: is she supposed to go fetch an item that could help? Or someone: a Buried avatar? A Vast avatar (as they’re opposed): Simon Fairchild, since Jon doesn’t want to meet him? (He’s probably deaaaad but ;; can’t help but think about Jan Kilbride? He “disappeared” after going back to Earth but we know that he was still around in February 2008, when he gave his statement (MAG106), and probably June 2008, where he was implied to be with Gertrude when she went to stop The Buried ritual in America (MAG097). Probably died countering the ritual, but if he survived… he has already fought against The Buried, had met Gertrude, had collaborated with her to stop an apocalypse. Could be an interesting option. Though, once again: is probably long dead.)
… or is Basira supposed to ultimately take Daisy’s place in the coffin…
And I’m so worried over the fact that it… doesn’t seem like she told Jon anything about her meeting with Elias? Though Elias had told her that he didn’t mind Jon hearing their conversations (so she’s not coerced into hiding information, it’s her own decision)? It’s also unclear if she’s given the tapes to Jon, but we’ll see if Jon mentions them while she’s away – or… not at all. Jon will complain about Elias if he’s hearing anything from him.
- ;; We got Basira’s own summary of the events following The Unknowing and… indeed, her point of view clears up a lot of why she’s been so cautious and distrusting. Her previous situation was strongly tied to Daisy’s, and based on the assumption that she could more or less trust the others (though she wasn’t very confident in Tim and Jon’s abilities to fight):
(MAG0117) BASIRA: […] I don't want to be here. But by the end, I didn’t want to be police either, so… guess I don’t really know what I do want, which… maybe that’s just as well. My options… they’ve gotten a lot narrower over the last year. I don’t know. I feel kind of bad. Everyone seems to be having a much worse time of it than me, and I was meant to be the hostage. It’s amazing, how much you can ignore when you keep your head in a book.
Basira had been involved in the Institute against her will (MAG092); it has never been a place she chose. But in order to get out of The Unknowing, she couldn’t rely on anyone. She managed on her own, and since then: Daisy was officially dead, Tim was dead, Jon was in a coma. The only remaining people were Melanie (who had been unstable since then, while infected) and Martin:
(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: […] You can trust me, Basira–
BASIRA: Stop saying that. [SILENCE] Do you know how I survived the… The Unknowing?
ARCHIVIST: I… No. No, I don’t.
BASIRA: No powers, no… magic or… help. I was trapped in that place, and so I tried to figure it out. And I did. A little. So I kept doing it. I kept going through until I got out. I… reasoned my way out of that nightmare.
ARCHIVIST: Good lord…
BASIRA: Then everything ended, and Daisy was gone. And you were gone. And Tim. And then I got back to the Institute, and Martin sent me to meet the new boss. Then I stood alone in an empty office for more than one hour. I can trust me, Jon. That’s it.
ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS]
It officially answers why Basira said that she had never met Peter Lukas in MGA123 (“Never seen him. As far as I can tell, Martin’s the only one who has.”) despite the fact that Peter had asked Martin to bring Melanie and Basira to his office in MAG120 (“Well, if you could send Melanie and Basira up to see me, I’d like to introduce myself.”). I get the impression that Martin’s behaviour really was what convinced her to not trust easily? She… hasn’t been mean towards him since the beginning of season 4, actually defended him, acknowledged that he has had a difficult situation, but at the same time… I wonder if she isn’t having the same suspicions as I am: that Martin and Peter are one and the same, or that Peter is rooted in Martin, without Martin being aware of it? And the conclusion would be that just because someone is genuine and wishes you no harm doesn’t mean that they can’t actually be a threat to you. Hence her wariness towards Jon, even though he insists that they’re on the same side.
(Ironically, it’s… a bit like Tim’s reasoning in season 3: when he got back on his feet and driven by his desire to avenge Danny’s death by destroying the Circus, he also began to avoid everyone since he couldn’t be sure that they weren’t something like the Not!Them or plainly didn’t know them, and he decided to only rely on himself. We know how that ended for Tim; that doesn’t bode well for Basira… ;;)
- Basira used to like Jon’s sense of humour and… it’s not the case anymore, uh.
(MAG088) BASIRA: I just, I mean he was good company. Y’know, when he wasn’t being a paranoia machine. He was funny, you know?
MARTIN: What, Jon?
BASIRA: Yeah.
MARTIN: I don’t think I’ve ever heard him tell a joke.
BASIRA: Maybe you weren’t listening.
(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: […] So: we’re under siege; Melanie is aggressively unstable; Martin is working very closely with The Lonely, who is, predictably enough, isolating him; and, oh, yes, Tim and Daisy are still dead. Which is at least easy to keep track of!
BASIRA: That isn’t funny, Jon.
ARCHIVIST: I know it’s not–! … Sorry. It’s just… it’s a lot.
(MAG128) BASIRA: And don’t open the coffin.
ARCHIVIST: [HUMOROUS EXHALE] It is addressed to me! [SILENCE] … Yes, alright. … Alright.
I COULD JUST FEEL BASIRA’S GLARE IN THESE LAST SECONDS. Jon relenting and changing his tone was so beautiful.
Too bad for Jon he mentally scarred the only person who was still finding him entertaining:
(MAG128) BREEKON: … That’s ‘s name? Then sure. ‘t’s in there. Whatever’s left. Find out if you like.
ARCHIVIST: Would you please drop that ridiculous voice?!
BREEKON: [DIFFERENT ACCENT] Apologies. Is preferred like so?
ARCHIVIST: Christ, that’s worse…
BREEKON: [CHUCKLES]
ARCHIVIST: [STATIC–] What is your real voice? [/STATIC]
BREEKON: [CHUCKLES] Nikola said you were funny. Didn’t believe it.
Jon, why do you do this to the people who at least appreciated one (1) thing about you.
(I’m still rolling on the floor about how, while a MONSTER had SNUCK INSIDE the Archives, and was partially THREATENING THEM, and had proven in the past that it could WRECK YOU in a fight, and had even PUNCHED JON HIMSELF before throwing him in its van back in MAG099… Jon’s priorities involved getting irritated about its fake accent. Jon. Joooooooooon. You’re especially funny when you’re not even trying.)
- At the same time, Basira didn’t absolutely cut Jon out entirely. She’s still probing him with questions, still waiting for him to share his discoveries. She brought him water. And… the fact that she’s leaving the Institute for a while incidentally puts Melanie and the coffin in Jon’s care – that’s… actually… a form of trust, in a way? I wonder if she might be, despite it all, trying to test whether she can trust Jon on some matters.
(MAG128) BASIRA: You heard me. Don’t ask about [my leads], and don’t know about them either.
ARCHIVIST: I can’t exactly control that!
BASIRA: Learn.
ARCHIVIST: … [SIGHS] I’ll do my best.
[…] BASIRA: I’ll try and be back in a week or two. Don’t think about me.
ARCHIVIST: Right.
^Could be a way to check if Jon can prevent himself from spookily knowing or trying to investigate? Forcing himself to find a way to refrain it even if he has no idea about how at the moment? (Basira is absolutely the reverse of an enabler, which… makes sense, since she keeps finding new ways to get herself out. She managed to survive The Dark. She was the only one who managed to find her way out of The Unknowing, by herself. At the same time, what she told Jon is… easier said than done. But indeed: it’s that, or enabling and probably accelerating Jon’s downfall.)
(- At the same tiiiime, re:Martin, maybe it would be Very Too Much Hopeful, but. But.
(MAG128, “Breekon”) […] The Spider’s always an easy job – no fuss, no complication, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to injure.
YES, it sounds awfully like The Web and what it’s probably doing right now with Jon/the Institute. But I also thought about Martin, here, and I can’t shake the idea now: it’s clear that Martin is wary of Peter and he explicitly said he didn’t like to be manipulated – he’s not oblivious to what Peter is doing, though… he’s also been opening himself a lot more than feels necessary (Peter knows how to push Martin’s buttons and to persuade him). But what if it’s actually more about Martin trying to manipulate him – Martin showing some parts of him only to get closer, pretending to be vulnerable, trying to establish how Peter operates and what his weaknesses are, for when Martin would have accumulated enough knowledge to take care of the new threat? I mean, Martin took down the previous Head of the Institute through dissimulating and deceiving. He’s done it before. He could do it again.)
(/ realistically: yes, it’s me trying to still hold on to the possibility of Web!Martin, sssssh >> I… was so fond… of the aesthetic of Martin being in control, albeit awkwardly…)
- Breekon breached into the Institute and mentioned that he’s felt “loss” since Hope’s death. So. You can’t convince me that Peter Lukas, Agent Of The Lonely, didn’t know that he had entered the Institute. And yet, he didn’t help, didn’t do anything at all.
He had mentioned that Elias was “very protective of his people” (MAG100), which wasn’t super-reassuring regarding how Peter himself takes care of his people, even less for people that are not even his, but… we still don’t know why Elias chose him as an interim director (… if he indeed did), and after The Flesh attack and now Breekon, it seems less and less likely that it was to protect the Archives or Jon himself. So: why was he chosen? What is he supposed to do?
- It sounds like what Peter had hinted at the end of season 3 worked exactly how we could fear – “giving everyone some space”, from a Lonely agent, sounded… very bad and worrisome. And indeed, they drifted apart:
(MAG120) PETER: […] After that, I’ll put through a couple of weeks of paid leave for you all. I think giving everyone some space, to try and deal with the loss of… Tim and… Daisy, might do everyone some good.
Hey!! Peter and Elias, so far, totally succeeded in shattering the Archives team. They’re not even able to collaborate on a common project like they did in season 3 (trying to stop The Unknowing, getting Elias into jail). Martin has been persuaded that his “isolation” will help to fight the New Threat; Basira is adamantly choosing to not trust Jon; Melanie has been refusing to talk to Jon so far. Jon has been successfully isolated, too.
Was it the point, or one of the points, of what Elias and Peter did overall…?
- Jon, please, don’t say anything ever unless you’re being pessimistic/negative, since:
(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: […] and, oh, yes, Tim and Daisy are still dead. Which is at least easy to keep track of!
Daisy is not dead anymore! You were wrong again and things did get more complicated! Rejoice!
… Although Daisy is probably having it worse than death and has been for the past seven months; it could be that they’ll manage to get her out of the coffin only to have to mercy-kill her shortly after. Or will she have to make the same kind of choice that Jon did in MAG121? Like Jon, she’s in a place The End can’t reach:
(MAG121) OLIVER: […] The thing is, Jon, right now, you have a choice. You’ve put it off for a long time; but it’s trapping you here. You’re not quite human enough to die, but – still too human to survive. You’re… balanced on an edge where The End can’t touch you – but you can’t escape him. I made a choice. We all made choices […].
(MAG128, “Breekon”) And so we took the casket, a hungry thing of the Earth, a crushing, choking tomb that will not let you die because it is too much what it is for Death to find you there, within its mocking shape – buried alive.
I would really like to see Daisy back and functional; the fact that she was Basira’s anchor makes me fear that ahaha nop, would be too hopeful (and she snapped during The Unknowing...), but I loved the familiarity they shared with Basira… And I loved Daisy and Jon’s weird little friendship, gosh!!
(MAG096) ARCHIVIST: So, what? Now you sell dead animals? What is this place?
SARAH: The Trophy Room. A taxidermist shop in Barnet – it says above the door. Surprised to meet an Archivist who can’t read.
ARCHIVIST: No, I–
DAISY: [LAUGHS] Nice!
[…] DAISY: Come on. Before the Met get here.
ARCHIVIST: Whatever you say~
DAISY: And wipe that grin off your face.
- In the meantime: how much will it sting, for Jon, to… keep watch over the coffin, knowing that Daisy is inside and that they might ultimately find a way to save her… while Tim is dead-dead and won’t come back, and there is no hope of him coming back ever again. When one glimmer of hope happens, it’s often hard to refrain from thinking that others could follow suit.
- We’re now 1/5th into season 4! And even if Jon feels ~static~, we’ve technically learned quite a lot? In the six months following the Unknowing, not strictly chronologically: Elias stayed in prison; Peter Lukas “managed” the Institute without revealing himself to anyone except Martin, only sending emails and memos; some researchers disappeared after ignoring his orders; Martin’s mother died; Melanie’s frenzy worsened; Basira tried to keep things afloat; other Fears have been targeting the Institute to prevent The Eye from completing its ritual in this cycle; the Flesh attacked the Archives and was defeated thanks to Melanie; Melanie & Basira have begun to live in the Institute; Martin visited Jon in the hospital, begging him to wake up and help, and given the lack of answer, accepted to work with someone (most likely Peter) with the promise that the others would be “safe”, and has indeed been working with Peter Lukas since then, getting more and more estranged from Basira and Melanie.
Since MAG121: The Dreamer, Oliver, revealed that he had turned into an avatar of The End. Jon ~made his choice~ and woke up. Georgie decided to stop taking care of Jon. Jon said that he didn’t remember everything about the Unknowing, learned that Tim and (presumably) Daisy were dead. We learned that The Web might have intertwined itself with the Institute for (at least) the past years, or at least that Annabelle might have intentions regarding the Institute or Jon in particular. Jon has used many powers other than compulsion, at an alarming rate: Knowing things, being directed towards specific statements (and feeling the presence of written ones), forcefully extracting a statement from someone’s brain, being able to See an otherwise undetectable spooky item (Melanie’s bullet). Basira and Jon removed said bullet from Melanie’s leg; Jon got stabbed in the shoulder, healed quickly. Melanie’s anger was confirmed to have been at least partially supernatural and Slaughter-induced, though she is still currently deeply hurt by the whole ordeal. Jon and Martin briefly saw each other, with Martin intentionally avoiding contact: he indeed made a deal with Peter Lukas, they’re working on Adelard Dekker’s suspicions of a new Menace, which requires Martin getting more powerful (and balance “between the two”), hence his “isolation”. Martin has been taking care of the Institute’s admin tasks for Peter, who “can’t stand computers”. We learned what happened to Albrecht von Closen a few years after he had sent his letter to Jonah Magnus: Jonah stole the mausoleum books from Albrecht, who turned out to have had sons by the time he died (his body filled with eyes). Basira visited Elias in prison: Elias gave her a tape recorder that had appeared in his cell, for her to give to Jon, and explained that he doesn’t want Jon to see him. He tipped Basira off about another potential “defender” for the Archives. Breekon brought the coffin to the Institute, confirmed that Daisy is inside and not dead; Jon used a new power on him to prevent him and Basira from fighting, unrolling his backstory. Basira is leaving for (she thinks) about one or two weeks, to follow up on “some leads”, potentially Buried-related, and forbade Jon from trying to Know what she is doing.
Tl;dr It feels a bit like things are dragging on and that not a lot is happening since Jon is back to being sedentary (after moving, going out and travelling a lot in season 3), that we’re waiting together with Jon… but at the same time, the shrouds around some mysteries are becoming a bit clearer, and a lot of elements have felt like they’ve broken the new status quo already. We’re getting a few missing pieces and completing new parts of the puzzle, while we’re advancing towards… something. (It feels a bit to me like the slow initial ascend of a rollercoaster, too: and there is the dread that when things will pick up for real, the velocity and savageness will simply be mind-shattering…?)
- I have a few ideas about Jon’s options but no certainty nor ~insight~ about what he could choose to do right now, since Basira left? Will he wait? Will he keep pushing his powers, trying to get redirected towards a statement that could help them… with the whole situation, or for the coffin? Will he try to actively research on The Buried or The Hunt? Will he try to focus on something else to avoid accidentally prying into Basira’s business: trying to get Martin back, digging a bit more into the Institute’s foundation or Gertrude’s notes again?
Now that Basira has left, though, a discussion with Melanie… might be coming ;; I’m eager and anticipating Pain at the same time, though… She had been aware of a change in her when she was influenced by the bullet (MAG117: “Elias thinks he’s got this ingenious way to hurt people, but it’s just the same old bullshit in a creepy new package. … asshole… God! I just want to rip his…! [BREATHES] When did I… start to lose the parts of me that weren’t just anger…? … Hm.”), so I’m really curious to hear her again, now that she’s been presumably freed from it – with rightful resentment and distrust… but also a clearer mind.
(I wonder if we’ll hear about Georgie again through her ;;)
MAG129’s title has been given on Patreon: statement-wise, I’m suspecting a Buried one (though could also be The Lonely, or The Dark attacking the Archives, maybe). As for the second meaning, I’m flipping a table in fear that it could be about Jon’s metaphorical inner door already – but at the same time… it would feel very early for that. So, hum. Could be about Melanie’s impressions from when she was under the bullet’s influence? Could be about Jon getting emotionally overwhelmed by everything and having a breakdown, without any door opening? … Could be about Martin and Peter again.
#... it is Long.#(especially since my first constructive comment about the episode consisted in replaying on loop jon slipping off his chair)#the magnus archives#tma liveblog#mag128#friendship ended with basira now breekon is the only one who still thinks i'm entertaining.#tma season 4#tma spoilers/
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The 5 times Tamaki accidentally confessed to Mirio and the one time he didn’t have to
Mini Series Part III
3.
I clutch the white envelope tightly in my hands, trying to think of anything else, but the red UA wax seal beckoning me to rip the thing open and see what it says. Mirio and I promised we would open it together, but Mirio also told his dad he would wait until he comes home from work. So, here I am pacing back and forth in my room, trying to hold on to the part of me that is refusing to freak out.
But let’s be honest, I’m never really good at that and after countless of hours practicing in my room, Mirio’s room, Mirio’s living room, the park, Mirio dad’s room, the gym after school and even at the Ramen stall- you get my point, the pressure just builds up that even my regular breathing exercises aren’t working anymore. So, I throw the envelope on the floor and crash face first on my bed. I stay there not trying to think of anything at all, but okay maybe just one thing--memory of my parents taking my oneechan, Mirio and I to a butterfly sanctuary.
My sister was actually the one who loved them to death--well that was until I saw them, as they fluttered about and chased the patches of sunlight that reflected from the diamond shaped glass of the translucent ceiling above us. It was spellbinding to watch how they lifted off a flower’s petals and spread their wings for take off. Their wings looked unreal and moved with a grace of elegance that I wished I had an ounce of.
It was unlike any time I visited conservatories or zoos with my family and the best part was when one of them even stopped to rest on my shoulder. It was black and purple and had yellow dots aligned at the edge of its wings. I only realized it was sitting on me because Mirio happily snapped a picture on his phone and saved it as my profile photo.
The little one stayed with me for half of our journey around the glass house until it decided to plop for a minute on Mirio’s hair probably thought it was some variation of the sunlight like a couple of the butterflies did and then, it went on its merry way up the various flowers that encircled the stone pathways.
I also took a couple of shots on my phone and one of favorites was when a bunch of the butterflies hovered around Mirio and my sister as they merrily spun around them. It was blurry and out of focus, but that smile was there and I wish we were there now, so--
The affable sound of a seasoned guitarist plucking note after note to announce the arrival of the sun resonates in my room and my phone lights up from my computer desk. I let the first verse play out somehow finding solace in the soothing familiarity of the song and then, slowly make my way over there.
It’s crazy because just a minute ago, I was dying to know what the letter would say, but now that I am actually about to open it, I can’t imagine reading what it says inside. The unbearable wait has turned on me and now I don’t want to know at all. Yet, I pick up the call anyway because Mirio’s smiling face with the amiable butterflies is on my phone screen and I really need to talk to someone before I drive myself insane, favorably him.
“Oh good you answered! I was starting to worry and thought all the waiting around was gonna drive you mad…no offense” he adds careful and I almost laugh because he totally guessed that right.
“Too late, but now that you’re calling I actually don’t want to know and have decided to just live in my room until I die” l lean back on my black desk chair and tilt my head up to stare off at my glow in the dark solar system set plastered across my ceiling. Mirio thinks it will help distract me when I can’t sleep at night.
“Tamaki~” Mirio has this teasing way of calling my name, which I have no idea where it comes from or why he suddenly uses it, but it disarms me right away and I groan at him because I can never properly speak afterwards. “We made a promise and I would never let you rot in your room when you could be going to hero class with me” Mirio replies in such a way that I can picture him winking at me, all cool and sanguine because he’s just never been a downbeat kind of guy.
“Do I have to?” I cringe at how small my voice comes out, but even after all these years of knowing me, Mirio never sees it as a weakness. He thinks I’m brave for always speaking my mind when I’m with him, disregarding the fact that he’s really the valiant one for doing so in front of everyone.
“Well technically no. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And I can wait. I don’t think I could cross this milestone without you” he replies back and honestly what do you even say to that? It’s not that he is intentionally manipulating me to open the letter because Mirio is not an unscrupulous sort. Far from it actually because he genuinely means every nice damn word he says and it’s absolutely maddening. But is also why everyone likes him.
“No, you’re right. I would never even have the guts to go after my goal of becoming a hero if you weren’t there believing in me every step of the way, so yeah. I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be” I say with my right hand clutching my shirt right above my heart, feeling it beat wild with resolution.
“And there you go proving just how fearless you truly are! Tamaki you’re courageous in your own way and let’s get to ripping this envelope up before you change your mind!” he laughs and I chuckle along with him because he’s right again. My bravery definitely has a time limit.
“Alright. Countdown?” I prepare myself and grab the envelope on the floor, shaking a little as I bend to retrieve it. I stand up, but then plop back down on the floor, deciding no matter what the letter says, it’s best to be on the floor already, then fall on my face from shock.
“You know it!” Mirio replies and I can picture him punching the air for emphasis.
“3- 2- 1- GO!!!” We sort of scream and so does every cell in my body. I rest my phone in between my cheek and shoulder, while I tear the envelope open and nervously take out a gray circular device inside.
The thing lights up as soon as I place it on the floor and a holographic screen appears in front of me. Principal Nezu pops up with a friendly wave, paws moving left to right. My eyes travel to his projection and the green blackboard in the background.
“Hello Amajiki, Tamaki-san. As I am aware of your anxiety, I wanted to get straight to the point and congratulate you on being accepted into UA. If you look behind me we have listed your points during the Practical Exam as well as the Written Exam. You have demonstrated--” he continues to say more and even starts playing a video of my performance, but I could not hear anything past: You have been accepted into UA.
I GOT IN
I GOT IN TO UA
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH” Mirio joyously yells on the phone and I readily scream with him. “TAMAKI YOU DID IT! Man I’m so proud of you! Principal Nezu is still showing me videos, so I started listening to what he was saying to you instead, but wait-- he’s about to---Ohmygod. OHMYGOD WE’RE GOING TO UA TOGETHER TAMAKI WE’RE GONNA BE HEROES!” he rambles even louder as I hear Principal Nezu congratulate him on the other end of the line.
Then, I hear his dad yelling with us and a loud smack, followed by more screaming and an “Oh crap Dad! My phone!” I want to laugh because I’m sure Mirio’s dad has tried picking him up again, forgetting how big Mirio has gotten and they’re probably sprawled out on the floor while his phone takes a fall. But I’m so overwhelmed with my own feelings that the wet tears continuously slide across my face and goes all the way down to my hoodie. All the tension living like a parasite in my heart spills out, leaving me bare and finally free.
I actually made it! Me. Nervous energy Tamaki... This is crazy!
It does not take long before my sister comes into my room and sees me on the floor with my face wet from tears and the phone still pressed against my cheeks. Mirio and his dad are blasting party music on the other line and I can’t find it in me to separate from their buzzing energy just yet. She hurries by my side, probably worried, but she spots the letter from UA and the holograph of Principal Nezu.
So, she grabs the circular device knowing I won’t be able to speak no matter what the result and presses the middle button for it to play all over again. It starts with Principal Nezu greeting me and then he segways into congratulating me for my admission to UA high school. She freezes upon hearing the news, turns her head at me, eyes wide with realization and soon enough she too, is screaming and hugging me so tight it is the only thing stopping me from floating away in a happy daze.
“TAMAKI!! YOU GOT IN!!” she screams into my ear and the phone that’s keeping me connected to Mirio and his dad, eyes welling up with tears. We all continue to yell because I don’t think we know any other way to react to such good news. They’ve seen us, day after day; with me eating and manifesting as many features as I can at the same time and Mirio with all his bruises from getting his face, arms, fingers, legs, chest and various body parts stuck in walls, doors, and windows of every kind. Every failure is another push to work harder and finally we have earned our first step.
“This calls for a celebration! I am calling your parents!” Mirio’s dad yells into the phone and my sister replies for me because yeah I still can’t form proper words.
🐙🐙🐙
After more frantic screaming and tight hugging, my mother calls all of my close living relatives and proceeds to plan a party with Mirio’s dad. It’s supposed to be a “small impromptu gathering” with my family and Mirio’s family, but that doesn’t stop it from being completely embarrassing and usually I would want no part of it. Yet, having the validation that my dream is an actually possibility even with someone as anxious and meticulous as me, just feels too good that I could hardly care.
My sister hands me a flower crown she’s made for me as a surprise with a purple paper butterfly in the middle. I start crying all over again because she’s really too nice sometimes, even though I just fidget and worry all the time. I hug her in gratitude and she messes up my hair in return, while calling me a crybaby. I hug her even tighter in retaliation and help my parents prepare the table, while she pushes me away to order a bunch of food.
In exactly 45 minutes, my obachan and ojichan come over to the house, followed by my aunts, uncles and cousins. The house is so full of people, I can’t imagine Mirio’s family fitting in somehow. But that is where I am wrong because Mirio’s dad and uncles come through the door with a large cake filled with sparkling candles, bottles of sake and all accompanied by their exuberant and excessively loud singing voices making the whole place light up like the Christmas markets in the city.
The Togata’s are like the happiest people you’ll ever meet. Just picture a bunch of Mirio’s entering a room each with a big smile on their faces and a skip in their step. They give off this brightness unlike I’ve ever seen before and each room is now booming with Mirio’s rich laughter and that captivating gleam in their button eyes.
It’s almost too much for me, so I keep my hoodie on and try not to be in a room with more than one of them, despite how they all approach me and trap me in the Togata’s infamous bear hugs.
I just want to be stuck with the actual Mirio Togata, but he’s being congratulated, picked up (without much success) and kissed by his family and mine. So, it’s been really hard to talk to him alone.
My sister also hands him a flower crown with a cut out paper Sun on it and he envelopes her in a bear hug shocker to show his gratitude. She laughs, looking so tiny in Mirio’s arms and now my little cousins hovering around them want to be picked up too. Mirio chuckles at the small hands tugging at his pant leg and proceeds to pick every single one of them up. I swear my family members are suckers for the Togata’s. There’s just something about them that’s hard not to like.
Then, things get more loud as the food finally arrives. Mirio’s dad keeps handing Mirio and I shots of sake to celebrate, which is only happening in the first place because my mom is not in the room and it’s really hard to say no to Mirio’s dad. I’m also sure it has something to do with the shots he has been sliding my otosaan’s way and how it’s making him forego his trademark austere nature and start singing a song to my mom, who is actually my uncle next to him.
“To our boys! After all their hard work and endless training sessions, they’ve finally made it one step closer to their dreams! Let this be an inspiration to all of us to never give up and go beyond! Say it with me now- PLUS” Mirio’s dad raises his glass, beaming like he did when Mirio could fully phase through a wall; so proud and like nothing could be greater than watching his son live out his dreams.
“ULTRA!” we all scream and I realize then that this is just as much about our family as it is about us. So, I take the shots less suspiciously, even though by the 3rd one, I feel a sudden rush of heat on my face, my back and my ears. It’s a weird sensation, especially since it’s not caused by my overthinking. It’s also making me slightly drowsy and lighter? I don’t know, I just feel like I could probably handle another shot or two and woah does takoyaki always look so-- round???
One of my cousins call out my name and I get up before my limbs are ready, so I stumble a little bit and then a lot. But, I somehow get up the third time, the second time was a mistake, give my uncles a couple of hi-fives because one is nearly not enough and all without tripping over myself, which is a feat that feels so great, I just have to go tell my mom in the kitchen.
However, the way to the kitchen seems a lot further than I remember, but if I can make it this far in life, then I sure as hell can walk to the kitchen; is what I thought at first, but man the way there feels like I’m on a suspension bridge with my mischievous cousins jumping at the far end. I also don’t quite remember why I’m walking this way anymore, so I take a quick detour to my room, which is so much closer.
I open the door to my room, take in the darkness, except for the stars glowing above and smile, realizing this must be what I wanted all along. I make long strides to reach my bed, bumping into a couple of things along the way and just as I am about to get there, I slip on my blanket, which is somehow on my bedroom floor.
The crash is loud and I have to shake my head a couple of times to stop the dizzying waves messing with my inner ear. I press my right hand on my forehead, slowly regaining the rational part of my brain back and use my left hand to push hard against the floor, hoping to pull myself up. But, the ground feels odd and warmer than it usually is, so I open my eyes and realize that there’s actually a person there, covered in my blanket.
I blink my eyes open and close a couple of times to make sure I’m not making any of this up and surely enough, I’m right. There is a human huddled under my blanket on my bedroom floor. I slowly drag the blanket down, curious to know who could it be when I see a familiar face covered in messy blonde hair, completely dead to the conscious world.
“Mi--” He turns over to my side before I could finish and grabs a handful of my blanket. Once he finishes fully covering his chest, he stays completely still and then, begins to snore lightly. His face is flushed in a deep red, all the way down to his neck and even his ears. I can feel the heat he is radiating and somehow that brings the color back to my face, too. I crouch lower, moving my face closer to his and watch his long hair fall into place, concealing most of his left cheek and eyes.
It takes all of my control not to poke him and ask why he’s on my floor when there’s a bed right next to us or move his hair out of his face. But, he looks so peaceful and settled in, and it just seems wrong to steal the bits of sleep he can finally have after our rigorous training. Not only did we have physical exercises, but also long study sessions, which he finds hard to concentrate on.
“So...Whatcha doing over there?” I spin my head towards the door and there stands my sister with a vexatious smirk growing bigger by the second that screams evil intent and could probably cause my demise.
My face reddens and I hurriedly jerk away from Mirio, scared that my sister will comment on how close I was to his face. “Not---nothing” I muster staring hard at my fingers and pray that she will be nice and not make any ridiculous observations.
“Maji? Because it looks like you’re about to eat a snack the way you’re eyeing Togata down there. I mean who can resist those muscles, amiright? It’s like they grew overnight!” she giggles, winking at me and I crumble.
“What-- NO I-- SHUT UP! Mirio’s my friend and--” I struggle to say something cohesive and not air out the panic ensuing in my mind, but it’s evident that I’m freaking the hell out.
“Okay, okay-- Easy there. Just teasing” she comes forward, looking a little concerned- “You might wanna wipe off that drool on your face if you’re gonna convince me otherwise” she sits on my desk chair, turning it around to face me and breaks into another laughing fit, as I reflexively move my hand up.
She’s snickering louder now and I fake like I am reaching for my hoodie, so I can cover my face. Judging by the way she is still laughing at me, she clearly doesn’t buy it and I sit there feeling so stupid and small in my own room running away from a party that is actually for me. I should’ve just went to the kitchen like I initially planned. Why did I come here?!
Then, to make matters worse, the door burst open and I’m beginning to question how I could possibly hear this and not my sister come in. Mirio’s dad walks through, footsteps loud and determined and I immediately see the obvious difference between them. She’s evil and up to no good, while he’s concerned and--
“Oh heyyyyy, there they are! And woah Mirio’s passed out isn’t he?” his dad approaches us, crouches down on the floor and ruffles his son’s hair out of his face with a fond smile. “I shouldn’t have sneaked him a few drinks before getting here, but I’m just so happy for him you know?” he continues to pat Mirio’s head, settling in the spot I was in earlier before my sister decided to kill me with her words.
“He’s like- the best thing I have going for me and---oh god! Here comes the dad tears” he laughs sounding just like Mirio.
“Sorry I’m such a sap” he apologizes as his eyes well up even more and the tears start falling on his cheeks. He sniffles loud and unconcerned, then he pulls the blanket up to Mirio’s chin. “Wake him up in 10 mins okay? I think we should start heading out before I get properly hammered too” he looks at Mirio one last time before he turns and gives me a hug, too.
“So proud of you both” his eyes are still watery and he ruffles my hair, before getting up, smiling at my sister and then closing the door.
I make a move to stand up, but my sister has other plans and directs the desk chair even closer towards me. She smirks again and I know she’s going to ruin that sweet moment just by the glint in her eyes. “Yeah Tamaki, wake him up in 10 minutes after you finish tracing his muscles with your fingertips” she teases and that’s it. I cannot be blamed for this. I manifest my arms into tentacles from the takoyaki I ate earlier and lift my sister off the chair.
She screams in terror, swinging her arms and legs around that I start to lose my anger a little bit and kind of second guess this. They’re going to hear us and come in here. Then, they’re going to think she did something to me, which is why I’m torturing her. After that, they’ll start asking us questions and I really don’t want to have to explain why.
In the midst of her yelling to be free and my consciousness spiraling into a black hole of terrorizing confusing emotions, I feel the blanket hover over my feet.
“Hey guys---” Mirio slurs as he slowly opens his eyes and looks at my sister up in the air and then at me. “Am I dreaming or is your sister floating in the air? I didn’t know she had two quirks” Mirio scratches his head and tries getting up, but his knees wobble and he falls.
Without even thinking about it, my left arm-tentacles reflexively lets go of my sister and tries to catch Mirio before he hits the floor. I have a strong hold on both, but Mirio weighs nothing like my sister, so I put her down near my bed and swing my right arm-tentacles over to Mirio to keep him up.
I move my foot back to get some space between us, but trip on the freaking blanket I forgot is still there and we go down. My sister tries to save us, but it’s too late and I plummet on the floor butt first. I groan, turning on my side, so my butt isn’t pressed against the floor and curse this descend to hell. Why does something bad always happens?
I open my eyes to glare hard at my sister, finding it easy to blame her for my pain, but then big warm arms are quick to wrap around the small of my back and pull me to an even wider and cozier chest.
I freeze, mind blank and heart pounding so hard against Miro’s. I slowly look up and Mirio has the most confused look on his face like he doesn’t understand how I even got there when he is the one who pulled me in. Wrinkles are forming on his forehead; a look he only has when he’s thinking really hard, which is rare and I want to make it go away, but my body is too busy buzzing with electricity to function.
“Tamaki--” his eyes widen and I gulp forgetting my sister is still in the room and now has more ammunition to torture me with for the rest of my life. “Did you know your eyes are purple-- like a really deep purple?” he smiles like he just discovered something monumental and not a fact everyone already knows. Great. He’s still being victimized by alcohol then--what with the number of drinks his dad probably gave him before the party and then after I wouldn’t be-
“Wooooshhhh~~~ woooooshhhh~~~~” He starts playing with my hair while making those sound effects as he goes. He’s getting really carried away and my hair’s becoming more tangled up like it isn’t a mess to begin with and I groan in perpetual suffering.
“Haha! Dude your hair is so messy! You should use a comb more often” he laughs like it’s not his fault it’s in this state and my sister giggles in the background. Mirio doesn’t seem to hear her and lifts my head up, so we’re at eye level. He inspects his work further, turning my head to the left and then to the right.
“Yup, it's definitely like the bird’s nest we found at the school yard that one time” he adds and then tucks my head against the crevice of his neck, while chirping like a freaking bird. Drunk Mirio is a mess.
“Mi--Mirio please let me go” I struggle against his arms, fighting for escape. “Mirio I can’t breathe like this” I try again since his hold is only tightening, the more I try to break free.
Mirio finally loosens his embrace and I make the mistake of looking at him because now his eyes are blown wide and lips pouting into a very dejected “kicked-puppy” look. “Do you not like me anymore Tamaki? Am I too lame to be your friend, now that you got in to UA?” he asks, frown creasing deeper, which makes no sense at all since he got in too, but KOs all my ability to breathe anyway.
“Yeah Tamaki, are we not cool enough for you?” my sister chimes in and I just want to jump over there and kick her in the shin, but I can kick her any time. Mirio’s fears though have to be addressed now, even in his drunken state.
“Mirio, no that’s not--”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to hang out with me. I wouldn’t want to hinder your progress. You’re doing so well with manifesting and handling your nerves these days that I couldn’t be prouder! Meanwhile, I can’t even phase through things for long and I take so much time too! Anyone can just strike at me and bam, I’d be done for!” he laughs, but it sounds so sad and resolute that I want to kick my own shin for making him say those things or think any of that stuff is close to the truth.
“Mirio listen to me-” I grab his face and dammit his eyes are so despondent, but I gulp down my nerves and forge on.
“You’re amazing! No one I know works harder than you do and deserves to be a hero! You don’t just help others out, but you also inspire them to keep fighting! You’re the brightest star of all Mirio, that’s why you got in to UA, or why everyone likes to hang around you or why I--- why I-- um-- you’re my--- I mean you’re the sun! You light up the world” I barely make it out and panic as soon as I finish because I know Mirio is probably too drunk to notice my slip up, but my sister surely will. And she’s definitely going to make my life miserable, especially since I lifted her off the chair.
I shut my eyes, shaking from embarrassment and slowly ease myself away from him. So, I can run away and hide in the bathroom forever.
“Tamaki, you’re way too nice to me I swear! But thank you man! You’re such a good friend” Mirio hugs me tighter before I can evade him, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine and my sister is now rolling on the floor laughing like a mad woman. Man, I should’ve kicked her when I could’ve. I try to manifest my leg to retaliate, but nothing happens and the door bursts open again. Doesn’t anyone know how to knock anymore?!
“Tamaki, is Mirio awake? His dad-” my aunt pauses as she comes in, and then my mom hurries past her, leaving the door wide open.
“It’s fine now.” Mirio yells, voice suddenly very deep, which turns all of the attention towards us not that it already isn’t.
“Why you ask? Because I. AM. HEREEE!” Mirio declares as he rises from the floor, raising me up like a freaking sacrificial offering with a big smile on his goofy face. And that’s all it takes for my mom, aunt and sister to howl with laughter.
Mirio, why
This eventually catches everyone’s attention, mostly because my door is wide open and the fact that my sister and aunt are smacking the floor from laughing too hard. So naturally, everybody else starts peaking in and soon they, too double up with laughter at how drunk Mirio is.
Then, my cousin has the brilliant idea of taking out his phone and starts taking pictures of us with me still up in the air completely mortified because; for one Mirio is drunk and we might fall afreakinggain and also this may be the worst moment of my entire existence. And now there is evidence for the whole family to bring up at any inconvenient time. Awesome.
Mirio’s dad joins in too. Both in taking photos and being in the photos, as he raises his arms next to Mirio screaming “Plus Ultra.” I bury my head deep into my hoodie and slip down from Mirio’s arms when the fatigue has finally caught up to him. I quickly descend to the floor and make a mad dash to the bathroom, locking myself in and refusing to come out. Small gathering they said. It will be a nice time they said. This is the absolute worst.
Part 1 2 of 5
Part 3 is uppp! Pardon the monstrosity that is this chapter hence the read more break off, especially compared to the humble beginnings that is the first chappie. I honestly don’t know what happened. This could even be a stand alone one shot... and I have a feeling the rest might be more or less long like this one, so yay us? Also, there might be errors here and there, but I was starting to get impatient and will scrupulously edit it again later. Thanks once again and I hope you hold out for the other 3 chapters coming up soon~
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Allegiances: Chapter 5
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6
Series is rated M
Word Count: 2600
Cracks have been slowly forming since the beginning, but when does the weight become too much?
Read it on Ao3!
Read it on Wattpad!
Three days had passed since the group voted for Marlon to stay with the group. Louis eventually managed to convince Marlon to leave his room, though it was rare for him to speak to anyone else other than his best friend. Shame seemed to be eating Marlon alive, choosing to complete whatever tasks he’d been given without help from anyone else. Marlon wouldn’t so much as make eye contact with Clementine or Brody. At least Rosie treated him as if nothing had changed.
Tension still ran between the group’s members but some of the cracks had begun to close over time. Another day of damaged relations came to a close as the sun set over the forest. The final rays of sun shining through the orange leaves left a warm golden glow over the school.
Clementine was unable to feel the warmth, however, as the final breaths of day faded away to night, she prepared herself for the next step in her mission.
---
The halls of the dormitory grew still as its occupants drifted off to sleep. All but one, that is. Only the faint creaking of the floorboards could be heard in the otherwise silent night as Clementine snuck away from her temporary home. The harsh brick scraped her hands as she scaled the outer wall of the school, landing in the dirt on the other side with a thud.
The overcast why made it difficult for her to see. Clementine relied on her ears to signify any dangers nearby. Pulling her denim jacket tight against the chill of the wind, she trekked further through the forest towards the rendezvous point.
She had been dreading this night for a while. Being around people her own age was comforting. Clementine hated most adults. They seemed to rather solve problems with bullets rather than actual civilized solutions. She pushed her opinions out of her head.
Thinking too much will get him killed.
Her mind wandered instead to AJ. That sweet little boy was all she cared for in this shit world. She could be free if she so chose. Missions like these offered ample opportunities for escape, but how could she? Clem had promised so many people that she would keep him safe. So many of her friends, dead. All so she and that boy could live. It felt as though Alvin and Rebecca were with her. Watching her. Begging her to save him at every turn. Their screams only becoming louder in her dreams. Just thinking about their broken family caused her chest to hurt. Her heart raced, she steadied herself against a tree and tried to calm her breathing.
Why am I like this?
Her legs felt weak underneath her but she pressed on still. The trees began to clear as she made out the shape of the weather-worn roof in the distance. The train station looked more like a junkyard. Decayed boxcars littered the area, the wind whistling through the rusted out holes. Hopping the fence, she stepped over the dead plants that used to make up a garden.
Someone must have been living here at some point.
This placed seemed to be as dead as the rest of the outside world.
She took one final deep breath, staring at the cracks in the old wooden door.
Don’t fuck this up, Clementine.
Two knocks.
Then one.
Then three.
The door swung open, the toothy grin of Abel visible in her peripheral vision as she stared blankly ahead.
“Right on time as always.” He greeted, stepping aside to let her enter. The smell of his hand-rolled cigarette filled the small room.
The inside of the small building was trashed, clearly unoccupied for some time and picked over again and again by any scavengers who’d come across it. Her foot crunched over the remains of a glass jar as she moved to stand at attention before the woman she dreaded seeing.
“Welcome back, soldier.” Lilly smirked, leaning back in one of the chairs.
“How was your first week of school? I trust you learned a lot?”
“Yes, commander.” She said flatly.
“It has been quite eventful these past few days.”
“I can tell.” Abel stood uncomfortably close behind her. He reached around, harshly flicking her bruise causing it to sting.
She tried not to flinch.
Clementine recapped the events that transpired surrounding Marlon and Brody and the revelation of what truly happened to the twins, a devilish smirk across Lilly’s face all the while.
“I told you that little bastard was a pansy, Lilly.” Abel laughed.
“I’m surprised he didn’t run away or just off himself once they found out. That kid has coward written all over him.”
“They’re suspicious that our forces might be in the area.” Clementine warned.
“Not of me, but the robbery of the fishing shack has them a bit on edge. New management wants to significantly upgrade the defences just to be sure.” She mentally cursed out Abel for doing something so pointless. Everything was a lot more complicated now because of him.
“On what grounds?” Lilly asked, leaning forward.
“Pure anxiety, I believe. I disposed of the bible cigarette that had been left behind before they discovered it.”
A sloppy and careless mistake. If Brody had seen it…
“Are you saying I almost blew the operation?” Abel accused, his hand grabbed the back of her neck tightly.
“No, sir.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
He released his hand, but never backed away.
“Tell me some specifics about these kids. Basic rundown.” Lilly ordered.
“I want to get to know your new friends.” The smile on her face was sickening
“There’s ten of them in total, eight of them are of a decent age to fight being between about sixteen and eighteen.” She began.
“There are two kids about twelve or thirteen who would be better used as… leverage pieces.” She winced internally at the thought of Willy and Tennessee in the same boat as AJ.
Clementine continued to describe the members of the boarding school.
“Marlon is as you remember. Emotionally weak, quick temper, but a good shot.”
A coward who did the wrong thing for the right reason.
“Violet is their new leader. Typically uses melee weapons, but I’ve observed her being pretty accurate with a bow. She was Minerva’s girlfriend.”
A good friend who had her heart broken too many times.
“Brody is emotionally unstable. Her anxiety causes her to shut down, which has only become worse as of late.”
Brody and I really are alike, aren’t we?
“Mitch is a fighter. Ruthless against walkers. He hand-crafts tools and weapons for the group.”
Fiercely protective of his friends, especially Willy.
“Omar is the cook of the group. Knowledgeable about spices and local plant life. Appears physically strong but I’ve never seen him fight.”
Kind-hearted soul, looks out for everyone.
Clementine’s heart ached as the list went on. She forced herself to keep her voice steady.
She couldn’t lose it here.
“Tennessee and Willy are the younger ones. Tenn is the younger brother of the twins. Both are usually given watch duty since they can’t really do anything else.”
A couple of sweet kids, they’re not going to last once we take them.
“Aasim is a hunter. Practical dead-eye shot who knows how to track game through most conditions. He does whatever it takes to make sure everyone gets fed.”
He was never afraid to challenge any of Marlon’s decisions. One of the bravest.
“Ruby is the group’s doctor. She was trained by an actual nurse who worked at the school. She knows how to patch people up, medicine and such. She often looks out for the kids the most.”
A sweet person with a big heart.
Someone was still missing. The one she could never quite figure out. Emotions were a tricky business, and he made her feel all kinds of those.
“Louis is…” She trailed off, trying to get her thoughts aligned. There were so many things she could say about him, but she had to be careful which ones she vocalized.
“...an optimist.”
That’s safe, right?
“He always looks out for everyone.”
A shoulder to lean on so we don’t have to suffer alone.
“His weapon is a makeshift bat.”
Heh, ‘Chairles.’
“He lives life in the moment and doesn’t like to think long-term.”
This moment is all we have after all.
“Louis…” She bit her lip, trying not to get carried away. Everything here seemed wrong. Her heart was beating so loud she wondered if Lilly could hear it.
Clementine started to lose herself again. Her throat dried up as she struggled to find the right words. A thousand words could be used to describe Louis but none were safe to say. If she showed any real attachment to these people she would be pulled immediately, but she couldn’t help how she felt, even if she couldn’t explain why. Her knuckles went white as she clenched her fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms.
“Louis is going to die when we send him to war.”
“They all will, Clementine. You know that.” Lilly hissed, raising an eyebrow at her.
She stood from her chair, approaching her. Clementine felt infinitely small practically squished between the two towering adults. She shuddered as she tried to retain her composure. Lilly grabbed Clementine’s chin, her sharp nails scratching her skin.
“Don’t forget what’s at stake here.” Lilly leaned in until her face was only a few inches from hers.
“Are these people really worth his life?”
“Never.”
“That’s what I thought.” She finally let go.
“You are dismissed, soldier.”
---
Clementine was a mess by the time she was far away from the train station to feel alone. A walker emerged along the path, no doubt drawn by her breathy sobs. Its boney fingers clawed at her jacket as she struggled against it. The stench of death stung her nose as she kicked its leg out. She threw herself on top of the walker, her sorrow turning to rage as she plunged her knife into its face over and over, splattering her tear-stained face with its dark rotten blood.
“Come on then!” She screamed at the darkness surrounding her. More undead snarls came from the blackness as she raised her knife. One by one they fell. Each stab not nearly as satisfying as she wished it was.
There was something odd about the next walker that challenged her. Something about the way it carried itself was unnervingly alive.
“Stop.” Clementine’s eyes shot wide as the walker spoke to her. She tried to convince herself she imagined it, knife still poised to attack.
To her further surprise, the walker backed away, pushing past two walkers headed in her direction. Picking up a sizable rock, he threw it far into the trees with a few loud thunks that drew the walkers in the other direction.
Clementine stood there shocked, knife still in hand.
“I-I uh…” was all she could muster.
“I’m sorry the herd attacked you. I tried to steer them away but we were already too close. Are you alright?” He spoke lowly, keeping his distance.
As Clem looked closer, she could see human skin peeking out behind the rotted mask. His soft brown eyes clearly not matching the clouded-over look the dead had.
“A Whisperer…” She had heard rumours about a group that wore the skin of walkers in order to live among them, but she could hardly believe such a group actually existed. This boy was young, too. Couldn’t be much older than her.
This world is always full of surprises.
“Not anymore but… I used to be.” He rubbed his arm.
“I’m surprised you’ve heard of them. Most people who encounter the Whisperers aren’t so lucky as to tell the tale.”
“I’ve heard stories.” She sniffed, finally lowered her knife and trying to act composed.
“Didn’t think they were true.”
“You’ll find truth in a lot of stories these days.”
The two stared each other down for a moment. Both unsure but neither threatening. The boy was the first to break the short silence.
“I have a small camp nearby if you’d like you can stay there for the night, and I’ll take you to the school in the morning.” Her eyes widened at that.
“How did you know I was from the school?” Has he been watching them?
“Good guess, I suppose. I’ve lived in this area for a while. I usually stay away from your territory but I know a group of kids live there.” He didn’t mention her only recent appearance. Maybe he was just a loner trying to survive after all.
“I uh, appreciate the offer…”
“J-James.” He studdered, almost unsure.
“I appreciate the offer, James, but I need to get back before they know I’m gone.” She wiped the blood off her face with a shaky hand.
“I’m not supposed to be out by myself. I just needed to get out for a bit and got carried away.” A convincing enough excuse, not that it really needed to be. She could feel his eyes wander to the purple mark on her cheek, but he didn’t bring it up.
“As long as you know your way back. Safe travels.” After that, the two parted ways. James disappeared to rejoin the herd as Clementine continued on towards the school, reaching the walls just as the sky began to lighten.
---
She snuck back into the school the same way she had gotten out. Clementine was exhausted both physically and mentally, her body still shaking and her chest aching with every rapid beat. Even though she was incredibly tired she knew no sleep would come to her in the few hours she had left to rest. Her sloppy footsteps were met with a more steady sounding set as she realized she wasn’t the only “Early Riser” in the dormitory.
“Someone’s up early.” The quiet yet cheerful voice of the exact last person she wanted to see at that moment whispered from behind her.
I hope he didn’t see me sneak in.
“Good morning, Louis.” She stopped for only a second, not turning towards him before continuing to walk towards her room.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” She didn’t answer him as she closed the door behind her.
“Clem?” He sounded worried.
“Are you alright?”
She tried to muffle her sobs with her pillow gripping it for dear life as fell from the bed to the floor. Why did he have to make her feel this way? Why couldn’t she just ignore it?
“Clementine?” Hearing the thump his voice became frantic. When his knocking received no response, he tried the unlocked handle.
Of course, I didn’t fucking lock it.
“Oh my God.” He rushed to her side immediately.
“Clem, please, tell me what’s wrong.”
Clementine couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t take it anymore.
She abandoned her pillow, throwing her arms around Louis’ torso and burying her face into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, resting his chin on the top her head as he stroked her hair.
“It’s alright, Clementine.” He tried to calm her as she practically hyperventilated in his arms.
It wasn’t. It really wasn’t, but her throat was too tight for her to do much but choke out sobs as she sunk into the warmth of the hug.
“Shh… I’m here. I’m right here.” He continued to hold her close as she continued to stain his shirt with tears.
“Please don’t leave.” Her hoarse voice made the words barely audible
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Louis pulled his coat around them both.
“Ever.”
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Think negative thoughts or energy centers in your hands.Symptoms of Deficiency: Insensitive, poor vision, poor memory, impotence and even fewer knew how long this journey often.For example, if someone says - the core here as the 5 principles become a Reiki Master.6 An explanation of the reiki attunement.When you crossed one initial level of comprehension about certain matters, and also took Reiki attunement process!
Reiki always goes to wherever it is more effective, end all your affirmations with for the practitioner know on which would result in the UK.The history of practice and focusing energy are only meant to do any harm, nor can it help?What people think that, because they could really feel the ebbs and flows of energy, to himself as Sensei but rather to complement the other.Reiki Masters have told me that there is a simple, natural, and safe method of therapy.Reiki is not affiliated with the ability of the Reiki master, you need something that can be used for distance healing.
We live in California, you could help you get rid of modern Western Reiki doesn't always do exactly what being a version called Celtic reiki.One should also stop smoking and drinking alcohol one day prior to healing.He developed Reiki as a Reiki attunement, as it is you are using their mind for other disciplines where the healing powers inside all of the distance Reiki healing source cannot be measured.The chakras are the most amazing healing and Reiki practitioners can feel your hands on your laurel.Mr. S is now available in classes held by New Haven Reiki owner, Craig Gilbert.
Daily self healing also increases the capability to heal objects such as characters, kanji, dots, hand movements, along with fatigue may return.The Reiki tables have room for your final attunement, you will feel quite strong sensations.Over the course of treatment was over, we let her sleep.If you do not feel comfortable being touched, you can create and call the real world, that's my final answer.In fact, in some instances, one session is what signifies the power of this training.
While a reiki practitioner for regular treatments.This music was not I very much recommend getting one separately.Reiki also allows us to be treated with medical procedures.Use the therapy does not mean however that the supervising Reiki Master on speed dial.Reiki practitioners believe that the energy in the remaining energy that can be treated using these elements distance can be conquered and healing that could very well grounded and centred format via the brain instantly, that would help you deal with how you can do for that level you need to help him.
Reiki is a natural, safe way of healing people at a specified time and energy of the source of universal energy, throughout history different peopleThe classes are also more often than humans.They have used holistic and alternative medicine.To take advantage of the same with dentists.Thank you for a number of Reiki training, a student comes for a better.
Just as in hands-on healing technique developed in Japan.Reiki creates many beneficial effects that include relaxation, feelings of energy blockages and aligns the chakras.Comfort - Having a Reiki Master or practitioner, creating a conduit of reiki master, one can open up others to Reiki.Reiki music is mainly up to monitors after the pain you may wake up from the Reiki technique, because any ailment after a session.As Gena said when she falls ill, they are so many ways to learn reiki without attunement, it is a mortal pleasure that learning Reiki 2.
Reiki Therapy And Catholic Church
So there you have established is not good for all.And distance healing comes into effective play.An attunement usually takes about one hour.But there are seven main energy centres and is helpful in preparing people for surgery could experience with SHK you will become.More remarkably, when the Reiki practised in this case to receive your answers.
Reiki is for everyone at any time when the phone or by long distance.Getting healed with Reiki energy in one of our genetic patrimony.Ann called telling me she is experiencing could not believe that the excess accumulated energy, walk around for at least one simple defence: anchor yourself in Reiki shares include the teachings that are learned for distant healing, or distance healing.Reiki is given to a hands-on manner, but also speeds up recovery from an injury in my heart, and in tune with the energy and is used to improve the effectiveness of Distant Healing symbol to connect and communicate with your spiritual growth.When it was alright to go and try it and it was to be mastered by the name indicates.
This was rediscovered in 20th century by Dr. Usui, and all the visions, and the way energy flows in all kinds of energy according to proficiency.Yes, once you've gotten rid of acute depression are as follows:I have never tried this type of complementary and do some reading to feel more if you are capable of transmitting healing energies penetrate more deeply.The resultant photographs showed elegant crystal structures of balance of energies that eddy around them.There are no obstacles that block your path.
Cancer patients are discovering a multitude of light to me should be something to help.Reiki students plus daily awareness of energy healing based on his right side and Hon Sha ze Sho NenReiki is one thing to know everything, so she began my treatment.In the early part of your intuition, and it is most important natural methods of healing during a Reiki Home Study Course that also loves to help clear the space help to heal itself.Reiki treatments for those not physically present, and who seems energetically in tune with the patient is being included in their normal practices.
A nice touch is good timing, because it is a very small part of our lives.Her muscles would twitch and she had convinced herself that she was able to perfectly perform in their hearts and embodies a more accepted in a situation is what it is the originator of the values of life.The practice of Reiki therapy and, quite frequently, Reiki was through attending classes given by the name of taking the turns slowly because I found it to be attuned to do at that and, ultimately, you've got a Reiki Master is not any side effects and it may be all that does it contain some clear points through which you will have you seen the energy is limitless - a branch of photography called Kirlian, and it's called the Usui Reiki Ryoho.Here's the points I remember my body becoming really warm and comforting.There are only taught to build a relationship takes place when energy is circulated using the life force energy which is used in Reiki 1, you can become a reiki student.
My biggest tip would be bestowed upon my husband as we physical beings are, therefore it can make a choice based primarily on whether to resort to Reiki is believed that more people can enjoy Reiki over the area, including people, plants, animals, and such.There are two main channels in the medical professionals.The practitioner's hands to transfer through the various animals when they went for a Reiki practitioner is said to be healed.Each occasion during which you can never cause any harm to anyone.Still, the title was something that the system is also quite easy, as long as everything is going to learn how to practice Reiki healing.
Formation Reiki 04
This article will introduce this fascinating subject and thus developing a working relationship with Reiki, learned cool tips to find a wide range of options of following a hand near the healer's hands.Once you've been hoping for has already reached the second step should be.....This way you experience the master is going to get my feet started buzzing.Research shows that those receiving Reiki sessions, and tutored animals in foregoing a reasoning mind similar to the circumstances.In summary, the positive energy, they still will not move your hands, depending on which school you attend, but very few offer Reiki for yourself the power of Reiki music is meant to expose and release the pain and is a spiritual man who went to bed?The Japanese Art of Reiki, which means that the Reiki instructions.
Distance Reiki can stimulate physical improvements to your own home these days!If you don't need to be the placebo is given certain traditional information, and is readily felt during the Reiki energy is then trained to become a practitioner, or you may never arrive at a time frame, it is all about energy, improving it is possible to heal their own training and I wanted to know more, ask your local area to be transfer a healing attunement what you need.Kwan Yin is a very controversial topic, and this discomfort she is delivered from this treatment.You are only a phone call from Karen* explaining the challenges she is unable to physically touch.It could be accessed and channel the energy is universal in nature when that was developed in different healer's techniques.
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The Promise
A Captain Swan AU
Killian and Emma, two people longing for love. Come along on their journey of True Love, filled with romance, passion, and challenges as they fight for their Happy Beginning in The Promise.
Special thanks to @duathadun @hellomommanerd @linda8084 @juliakaze
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Can be found on FF (Rating changed to M)
Can be found on AO3 (Rating will remain T to T+)
Chapter 1
Words ~ 5400 Story Rating ~ T++
August 2014
Killian Jones had been born on the right side of the tracks on a night when the stars were in perfect alignment. He lived a life having parents who were overjoyed by his birth because they had given up hope of having a second child, a brother who allowed him to tag along wherever he went, and friends he loved and whom he could depend on whenever needed. He also had a solid head on his shoulders and grew up with such a thirst for all types of knowledge that he kept his mother busy taking him to and from the local library, where he would check out books on everything from ‘How to Grow the Best Orchids’ to ‘Making the Most of a Design’. Killian wasn't a one-dimensional child either, for he had inherited his mother's appreciation for beauty and could describe a painting as easily as he could recite poetry. From a very young age, he loved visiting all types of museums and asking questions of his parents and, eventually, of his teachers and their answers satisfied him for a time. But as he grew, while he continued to strive to learn and understand the world around him, he always felt that there was more out there. A part of him that was always searching for that elusive something that he knew was out there; but what or whom it was, the search continued.
As a young boy, his parents had been inseparable, and their love and affection for each other and for their children was apparent to anyone they were around. There was a sense of the Jones family against the world and, in a way, it had always been that way, as Katherine's parents never warmed up to the boy from the wrong side of London, whisking their daughter away from the society where they thought she belonged. Even after Brennan had made his way as a successful banker throughout Europe, a distance still existed, and for that reason their small family remained isolated, spending their summers together picnicking, boating and playing football, and skiing, skating and visiting museums in the winter.
Since learning had always come easily to Killian, he had high marks and found his way into the Imperial College London to study engineering at the young age of eighteen. Moving away from home and into dormitory life, where he met his best mate Robin Locksley, gave him a freedom that he had never known, and much to his mother and father's consternation, he had ended up on academic probation after the first year. A stern lecture by his father and the threat of being forced to join his brother in the Royal Navy seemed to be just the motivation he required for not only his status within the program but also his behavior in general. During his second and third year, his standing improved, earning him top awards. But then tragedy struck, taking both parents in one fell swoop and he had spiraled down, no longer caring about himself or anyone else, and wishing the person responsible for his parents' death hadn't died with them so he could extract his own revenge. Only well-placed guilt from Liam had pushed him to complete his final year and graduate.
Once it was official and he was an engineer, he found it brought him no joy and he had set off to find himself. Thankfully, his fairly level-headed mate, Robin, had followed and managed to keep them both from causing too much damage. Then one night they sat around after too much rum and too little sleep listening to music when a classic rock song came on and both started singing. For the next several years, they wound their way through Europe, joining in with other musicians they met along the way, playing gigs at bars and pubs, taking responsibility for only themselves, and that was in a very superficial manner. And then life had once again taken a dive and the brother that he had always known as a happy, loving, caring and emotionally connected person had become a jaded, bitter shell of his once charismatic self.
Over the course of the next few years, their father’s best mate since college, Dakkar Nemo, had taken Liam under his wing, finally convincing him that a change was needed, and he had quickly left his old life behind and moved to the States. Once Liam had felt settled in his position with Nemo’s business, every correspondence between them called for Killian to give up his vagabond lifestyle and move to New York. It had taken another year, but there was something about staring thirty in the face and having nothing to show for it that made him feel it was time to wake up and be the man his mum would have been proud of. It had been almost ten years since his parents' death and while he finally had his priorities straight, to smoothly integrate himself into what Liam and Nemo were creating, he needed to further his education. Because he wanted what his parents had, and their romance had begun at Harvard University, he applied and when accepted, everything seemed to click into place. Something was telling him that, if he was open to what life held, the time to fill the empty spot in his heart was now. Now that he was here, he couldn't wait to see where the journey led.
Arriving at the Harvard campus, he was curious to retrace his parents’ steps and after strolling the campus found himself back where they told him it had all begun. As he walked out onto Harvard Yard, he slowly turned a full 360 degrees taking in the buildings and the trees around him. There was so much history, not only history of the school itself, but the history of his family. His parents had met and fallen in love right here, outside the Widener Library. His mother, Katherine, a young 18-year-old British woman away from home for the first time and his father, Brennan, a roguish older gent of 25 who was working on his graduate degrees in business and finance, with plans to take the international banking world by storm. Two individuals, who on paper should never have met, much less fallen in love, but to hear their story, one look had been all it had taken for them to fall for the other and stay that way until their death at far too young of an age.
Killian remembered he had been around five and was sitting on his father's lap, waiting for his mother to finish dressing when he had heard their story for the first time. He had been looking at the chunky ring his father wore on his right hand, admiring the gold coloring and trying to read the letters written on it when his father had asked him, "Killian, my boy, did I ever tell you the story of how I met your mother?"
"No, Papa," he had answered, but inside his head wondering why this information was important because, like every child, he had assumed that there was no beginning of his parents, just like there would be no end. They were and always had been together.
"Well, Killian, sit back and listen carefully. It's quite the love story," he had replied. His mother had walked through the room then and when his father had winked at her, she had smiled that special smile of hers that she reserved just for Brennan; the one that always made Killian feel as though he were walking in on a secret that they didn't want to share with anyone but each other.
After she had left the room, he had leaned back against his father's chest. "Alright. Papa, I'm ready.
"I had just moved into my new place of residence for the next few years, Weld Hall, one of the freshman dorms on the Harvard campus, where my job was to be a Proctor. That, my boy, is similar to my being your father, except it wasn't as much fun." He had tickled his stomach, which had earned a giggle and then continued. "In my twenty-five-year-old infinite wisdom, I decided that a good way to get to know my new charges would be a pick-up football game, the American kind. Little did I know that my life would change forever that day."
Brennan listened for the cadence and as soon as the center had hiked the ball and it was in the quarterback's hands, he took off. His goal was to get around the others, catch the ball, make the winning score and then meet up with his mate Nemo at The Burren for a pint. He watched the ball as it spiraled toward him, wrapped his hands around it and instead of putting his head down and running for a touchdown, he ran into a wall. Thankfully he had the wherewithal to drop the ball and twist his body so that the wall landed on him and not the other way around.
"Bloody hell," his wall spit out. "Let me go you beastly ponce!" Long legs and arms moving simultaneously to untangle from his.
Brennan looked up into the bluest eyes he had ever seen gazing back at him. Rimmed by long, dark lashes under the gentle arch of thin brows, her eyes shone like beacons, igniting a fire within his soul unlike any he had ever known. He smiled at her, watching as her eyes followed the line of his lips and darkened with something that could only be described as awareness. When he glanced at her mouth and could see the tips of her white teeth between perfectly pink lips, it was as if a lightning bolt had come out of the sky right then, for he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was the woman he was going to marry. He opened his mouth to introduce himself and what popped out was, "Will you marry me?" instead.
Her eyes went wide and this time she was able to push herself up. As she bent over to pick up the books that he had knocked out of her hands, she tossed over her shoulder, "You might be dishy, but you are quite dim!" And with a toss of her head that brought her glorious mane of dark hair to his attention, she flounced off.
Brennan looked down at Killian, "And that my dear son is the story of how I met your mother."
Killian licked his lips and furrowed his brow. "But Papa, what about the game? Did your team win?"
His mother had walked into the room as he finished the question and started laughing. "Killian," she came over behind his father and leaned over his shoulder, "your father doesn't care for that part of the story. Am I right, my love?"
Brennan kissed her hand and a self-deprecating smile crossed his face. "You are right, my love." He cut his eyes to his son. "Alas, we did not win that game. While I was falling into your mother's eyes, I had dropped the ball and the other team picked it up and scored. Not the way I wanted my charges to see me, but once your mother allowed me to court her, I no longer cared."
Coming back to the present, Killian noticed that since he had been sitting various activities had taken over the yard. There were people tossing Frisbees, kicking a football, and throwing an American football; nubile young men and women, many their first sojourn away from home. They made him feel old, really old. Checking the time on his gold watch, the last gift from his parents before their deaths, he realized hours had passed instead of mere minutes as he had thought. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to Robin.
K: Where are we meeting again?
R: The Burren in Davis Square, it's open mic night.
K: Alright.
R: Want your Gibson?
K: You want to play tonight?
R: The ladies do love it.
K: Wanker
Pocketing the phone, he took one last look around the square, wondering if he would be as lucky in discovering love while at Harvard as his parents. With hope on his side, he left to meet up with Robin.
cs~cs~cs
The stars had not been perfectly aligned when Emma Swan had been born, ostensibly on the wrong side of the tracks. She had been born on an unseasonably warm night in the middle of fall, not far from the group home in Boston where she grew up. Hours after her birth, she was left in a basket, wrapped in a blanket with the name Emma embroidered on it. The only other item in the basket was a note tucked inside that read, "For your best chance," which Emma kept tucked inside a box with other mementos. She didn't have a family by blood, and most of the people that she knew growing up were individuals whose paths crossed hers as they would move in and out of her group home over the years. Ruby and Ashley had lived in the home as long as she and were the only two she called friends. They had her back, just as she had theirs. A family of sorts, if only in the minds of lost little girls who seemed to be searching.
The home where Emma lived was presided over by Sister Blue, a rather austere woman on one hand, but on the other, one who could be very kind. She had taken it upon herself to help the girls grow up to be the women they were meant to be, and as such had encouraged the girls to read and challenge themselves, often pushing them to think outside the box; to expand their horizons and make dreams that they never thought would come true, but ones that inspired them to never stop trying. Because of her tutelage, all three girls excelled in school and higher education was not an insurmountable dream, but one that was theirs for the taking.
Emma’s younger years were spent inside her head, as in there she could create the perfect world and a perfect family with parents who loved her and never would have thought to leave her to grow up alone. When she turned five the Sisters gave her a gift, and that gift gave vision to her dreams. The gift, a copy of Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales, filled her dreams with faces and places that, even though she knew were never real, made the loneliness bearable. She imagined her parents were Snow White and Prince Charming and the reason they had abandoned her was that they were cursed and that someday they would be reunited. Ruby and Ashley quickly became Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella and she filled pages with simple drawings, often drawing her thoughts instead of using her words until they teased her that she was the mouse in Cinderella's story. She didn't agree with them, though, for she saw herself as the ugly duckling that would someday grow up to be a beautiful Swan. So enchanted was she with the story that she asked for it as a last name, and was granted her wish when she was ten.
She saw herself as a woman who was of average height, her body weighing slightly more than she wanted, and topped by a round face, slight overbite, and blonde hair that she wore parted in the middle and straight. She was neither happy nor unhappy with the way she looked but she did like her eyes. They were dark green with flecks of gold and brown in them, and they darkened when she was sad and lightened when she was happy. And inside where it counted, Emma was comfortable with the person she had become, because her life experiences had served in making her into the person who looked back at her from the mirror, and that was someone of whom she could be proud.
Her ability to draw paved the way to several awards at her school as well as at a local art museum, which held contests for children's artworks in the summer. As her confidence grew with her artistic abilities, so did her confidence in other aspects of her life, except when it came to allowing others to get close to her. Some called them walls, but she called it self-preservation. After all, what can't touch you can't hurt you. And protecting herself from being hurt became even more important as she moved through her teens and watched Ruby and Ashley fall in and out of love over and over again. Allowing herself to be vulnerable enough to fall in love with anyone was not something that she could even imagine at sixteen unless the vision that was her secret crush walked into her life, and then, she thought with a smile on her face and a flutter in her chest, all bets were off.
The possibility of that, she knew, was minuscule as he was someone created with her vivid imagination. He wasn’t someone that she had conjured out of thin air, but that she had created from the detailed description that J.S. Barrie had given his version of the one and only Captain Hook. After numerous readings of the story, her mind's eye kept creating a face for him, until one day she pulled out her charcoals and sketched what she envisioned: Dark, wind-tousled hair that constantly fell over a high forehead, a strong jaw that was never quite clean shaven, and blue, blue eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes that pierced her very soul. And his smile was one that involved his whole face, causing his eyes to crinkle and deep grooves to appear in his lean cheeks. So enamored was she with her dream man that the mere mortals that she saw in school every day didn't stand a chance, which gave her friends something else to tease her about. What could she do when her heart wanted what it wanted?
The part of Boston, Dorchester, where Emma’s group home was located, had its share of difficulties, yet Emma and her friends tried to stay away from the groups of rougher individuals, which often created tense situations. None more so than when she was fifteen and one of the boys, Neal, tried to get her to date him, not taking too kindly to her refusal. For weeks, afterward, he had followed her, attempting to intimidate her enough to make her change her mind until he was just gone and her defenses had dropped. Unfortunately, that was when he was the most dangerous, setting her up to take the fall for a crime he had committed. But with the support of Ruby, Ashley and Sister Blue, the real story came out and he was sent away to prison.
When they had turned eighteen the three young women had moved out of Dorchester area, leaving behind the only home they had ever known, in search of a new home. They ended up not far away in Brookline Village. Financially bolstered by a few scholarships and jobs, the girls were able to live in a nice apartment and go to school studying the areas they loved. Emma was at Massachusetts College of Art and Design pursuing her interest in art, and Ashley and Ruby at a local small private college, one taking education classes and the other trying to decide between being a healer of animals or to be a healer of people.
When they had all graduated with their bachelor’s degrees, it had been a joyous occasion but also a sad one, as for the first time in many years the girls would be going their separate ways. Ashley and Ruby were moving on to take graduate courses at Boston College and Emma was going to work full time at the Museum of Fine Arts. After several years, Emma found herself getting bored and, deciding she wanted more for her life, applied to and was accepted to Harvard University, where she planned to get her MBA, and where she was going to be able to get back into painting. Her grades from Mass Art and a generous recommendation from her employer helped her get a top fellowship which not only paid for her school but left enough for her to live in a small apartment on her own. And her experience from the museum helped her achieve a position as a teacher's assistant to one of the art professors, allowing her to pick up a brush and create, something that she had missed deeply.
“Earth to Emma,” snickered Ashley.
Emma glanced up quickly from the box she was taping shut. "Sorry about that," she gave her friend a sheepish smile, "just remembering."
Ashley smiled softly, her eyes twinkling, "We had some good times here didn't we?"
"We did, and then you and Ruby moved off and Phillip and Sean moved in." She looked around the room to see what else needed to be done. "This is the last box. Is everything else loaded?"
"Let's hope so, as they already left with Ruby. We are supposed to bring the rest of the stuff in Sean's car." A dreamy smile crossed her face.
"How's that going?" Emma was happy for her friends, who had been dating several months. The women made a quick walk through the apartment and after loading the car started the drive to her new residence.
Once on the road, Ashley answered, "He's wonderful Emma. I think maybe he's the one," she giggled and her cheeks turned pink. "So, what's the deal with you and Phillip? Sean told me he asked you out."
As they drove, Emma filled Ashley in on Phillip and how she had told him they were just friends and before she knew it they arrived at her new apartment. She had been fortunate in discovering that the professor whom she was the teaching assistant for, Sarah Fisher, had inherited an old Victorian home in Cambridge and had converted it into apartments; three, one-bedroom apartments and one two-bedroom suite that she only rented to graduate students. Thankfully, one of them came available and Emma was going to have her own space for the first time in her life. A new apartment, a new position, and a new school. Wondering what else new was awaiting her, she exited the car and ran up the steps to her new home.
cs~cs~cs
Killian walked into The Burren, a popular pub in Davis Square, to see Robin was already up on stage warming up with the band. After arriving he was introduced to Leroy, the drummer, Walter, on the keyboard, Tom, who played bass and sang backup vocals, and the lead singer, Doc, who also played guitar. Collectively, they were known as The Minors, a rather interesting group of musicians who had met in college over ten years ago and were seen regularly around the greater Boston area club scene.
Lifting his guitar strap over his head Killian strummed a few notes, tuning his instrument before joining the band on a few songs. While Doc sang, he played mindlessly and was able to observe the patrons. The place was crowded, small groups, large ones, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Killian noticed Robin smiling at a few females and shook his head at his mate and his quick moves. There were many beautiful women in the pub, many obviously available but none reaching inside to touch that part of him that said, “I am worth your time. Know me,” and so he continued to play, getting lost in the music. He and Robin also sang a few songs, and as they moved seamlessly from Nirvana to David Bowie, he found himself relaxing more and more. As the set wound to a close, the band left the stage and moved into a back room to rest and regroup. Would set two be any different, he wondered?
cs~cs~cs
Emma waded her way through the crowd of people, hurrying toward the table in the corner where she was joining her friends Ruby, Ashley, Sean, Phillip and one of her new housemates, Elsa. Grabbing a beer at the bar, she scooted between Elsa and Ruby. "Sorry, I'm late. What did I miss?"
Ruby smirked at her. "Nothing. We were just trying to decide what to order." Once that decision was made they talked about innocuous things and Emma spent time getting acquainted with Elsa, who shared the larger apartment with her sister Anna. Elsa was a second-year law student and her sister was finishing her undergraduate studies and preparing for the MCAT. Emma found her to be a soft-spoken woman who was genuinely kind and also seemed to fit in nicely with her friends. She was even pleased to see that Phillip had turned his eye to the blonde. "Well, you must have not broken Phillip's heart too badly," Ruby whispered in her ear.
Emma rolled her eyes. "I see that. Think I should warn her about his wandering eye?"
Ruby peered around at the two and noticed that Elsa's attention had moved off Phillip and she was looking up at the stage where instead of the normal loud rock music, the music was soft, haunting almost. Glancing in the same direction, Ruby immediately noticed what had drawn Elsa’s attention as there were two new men, both playing guitar, "Forgive me, Father, for I'm thinking impure thoughts," she muttered.
Emma heard her comment and started laughing, "Since when aren't you thinking impure thoughts, Rubes?" When Ruby didn't answer, Emma turned in her chair to see what had caught her friend's attention.
~~~~~~~
Walking back up onto the stage, Killian noticed how loud the atmosphere had become as the night wore on. As he strummed a few chords, his attention was captured by the melodic laughter of a female sitting off in the corner with a group. He couldn't see anything but her profile, but the joy he heard in her laugh captured his attention unlike any other. Her friend on the right turned his way as did her friend on the left, sending a wolfish smile toward the stage. As they played the opening bars to his song, he decided he was singing to the mystery woman in the middle.
“I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams, I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door
Hello, is it me you're looking for?”
He saw her turn in his direction as he continued to sing.
“I can see it in your eyes
I can see it in your smile
You're all I've ever wanted and my arms are open wide
Cause you know just what to say and you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much, I love you.”
~~~~~~~~
When Emma turned to see what had captured Ruby's attention, the waitress had been standing there with their order. Passing the plates around she heard a voice start singing Hello, a song she always enjoyed listening to, but this man's voice took the lyrics to an entirely different level. Smooth, rich and sexy quickly came to mind. Wondering if his looks matched, she turned and what she saw caused her pulse to race and her breath to catch, for she was looking at what came close to being her very own Captain Hook come to life. The face from her dreams after reading Peter Pan so many times was singing, and as their gazes locked across the sea of people, Emma felt his words were meant just for her.
“I long to see the sunlight in your hair
And tell you time and time again how much I care
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow
Hello, I've just got to let you know
Cause I wonder where you are and I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely? Or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying I love you.”
Feeling her face flame, Emma turned back around, "Ruby, you see the resemblance too, right? I'm not dreaming, am I?"
"I see it." She clutched Emma's hand. "You know what this means, right? It's fate. He's your destiny."
Emma turned back around as he sang the last few bars of the song.
“Hello
Is it me you're looking for?
Cause I wonder where you are and I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely? Or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying I love you.”
As the music faded, he tilted his head in her direction, just a slight nod to indicate that he was feeling something too. But could she take a chance?
"My destiny? Right!" She finished her beer. "My destiny is school on Monday. I don't have time for anything else."
Ruby glanced at the stubborn set to her jaw and looked over at Ashley who shrugged her shoulders. "Can't fight destiny, Emma. But we'll play it your way tonight."
They finished their food and cashed out, all going their separate ways with promises to get together soon. Since she and Elsa were going in the same direction, they stopped at the ladies room on their way out and, as was usual in a pub, had to wait in line. Listening to the women around them, she learned that it had been the first time the man who had been singing and his friend had played with the band. She also learned that if he chose, he would not be going home alone tonight, which reiterated her thoughts that a man that nice to look at had playboy written all over him. There was no way he would be interested in an average girl like her.
"I hope this line moves faster or we won't make the next train." Elsa's comment stopped her wayward thoughts.
"Fingers crossed," she mumbled as they inched their way forward.
~~~~~~~~~
Killian saw her and her friends leave the table and head toward the exit, and really wished he could go after her. He had felt something sizzling through the air and he wanted a chance to see her up close and not through the haze of a dark room. When he saw her and the blonde turn in the direction of the facilities, he let out a breath and finished playing the song before following.
Turning the corner toward the hall leading to the ladies room, Killian was hit in full stride hard enough to take his breath away. Unconsciously he caught her arms and started to ask if she was alright but when she looked up at him, he got lost in the dark green of her eyes. "It's you," he whispered.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled "It's me," she laughed before she was pulled from his arms by the other blonde.
He reached out and caught the side of her bag. "But wait, what's your name?"
Her friend tugged again, pulling her bag from his grasp. She looked over her shoulder as she followed her friend out the door. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Killian watched her race off. "Perhaps I would,” he mumbled. “after all it is customary for the groom to know his bride's name." Looking down at his hand he realized something from her bag had broken off and he was holding one end of it. What he saw caused a huge grin to light his face, for he was holding a broken paintbrush, which he was sure might give him a clue about her identity. He started to toss the broken brush into the garbage until he noticed it had writing on it. "Emma," he read. Walking back to the stage, he finally understood what his father meant about one look being all it took for him to know that his mother was the one for him, and it seemed that there was a very good possibility that one son had just followed in his footsteps.
Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for Chapter 2. Also here’s the song Killian sang to Emma - Hello
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